


The Words Would Only Rhyme

by betweentheheavesofstorm



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alliances, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Bodhi, Asexual Character, BAMF Jyn Erso, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Psychic Abilities, Psychic!Jyn, Rebelcaptain - Freeform, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Slow Burn, Timeline What Timeline, Violence, background Baze/Chirrut - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-09-13 23:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 50,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9147394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betweentheheavesofstorm/pseuds/betweentheheavesofstorm
Summary: It’s then that she sees him. Leaning against the door of a cell, not quite opposite, a man with untidy black hair and stubble. His clothes are similar to hers: scruffy and non-uniform. She doesn’t recognise him, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s new. His eyes, like everyone else’s are fixed on her, but he’s too far away for her to pinpoint his expression.//A prisoner of the Empire and a wanted bounty-hunter, Jyn Erso isn't certain of many things. In fact, it's got to the stage where there's only one thing she knows for certain: when and how she will die.Or: being able to see the future is a lot less cool when it's mostly your future.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a few notes, for this to make sense. 
> 
> 1) this is taking place in a timeline where the Death Star doesn't exist. Just bear with me, because if it was around it would get in the way
> 
> 2) doesn't the Death Star always get in the way, you ask? It's not as if the rebels in canon want it around. To that I reply shh and repeat the phrase 'plot reasons'. 
> 
> 3) yes Jyn is slightly psychic, but this is again for plot reasons rather than to make her 'more badass' because to be honest she's badass enough already.

She’s in the courtyard again, crouching behind one of the pillars. As she does every time, Jyn runs her hand across the smooth cream-coloured stone. Her fingers come away covered in pale dust. She can’t tell whether she’s holding her breath to be quieter or whether she’s too scared to breathe. The presence of stormtroopers wouldn’t usually cause such a reaction, but there are too many of them for any one person to handle.

A sound from further down the colonnade sends her skittering to the next pillar. She’s clutching her blaster tightly in one hand, trying to suppress the nausea that’s bubbling up in her stomach. There’s nothing to be afraid of, she tries to tell herself. The sooner it happens, the sooner it will be over and she’ll be okay.

(She thinks that every time and she never believes it.)

She can’t hide for long. A blaster shot hits the next column along. It’s enough to make her start running, sprinting out into the open. It’s only a small courtyard: square, with orange sand and a small stone fountain in the centre. On the walkway to her left stormtroopers are gathered. They’ve been looking for her, and now they’ve got her.

Raising her blaster as she runs, she takes out two and almost hits a third. She can hear her heart thudding, but she’s almost there, in a second she’ll be off the sand and under cover again.

The shot hits her in the middle of her back. She doesn’t hear the blaster go off, only feeling the impact that sends her falling forward. She’s carrying so much momentum that she hits the ground hard, knocking the remaining air out of her lungs.

She has just long enough to think _bollocks_ before she wakes up.

 

It’s so cold on her bunk that for a moment she just lies there, not wanting to move and lose the heat she’s stored. But there’s no escaping the chilly draft that sweeps in through the door and cuts through her clothes, so after a minute or two she reluctantly shifts into a sitting position. Still anxious to preserve warmth, she crosses her legs and folds her arms.

That dream, again. Jyn tilts her head back and leans against the wall behind her. Her eyes come to rest on the identical wall opposite. The other bunk has been empty for a couple of weeks now. The inmate she was sharing with was hauled off for questioning and hasn’t been seen since. The wall is hers to stare at for as long as she likes.

Her stomach is still unsteady, even though she’s awake and safe. Well, as safe as you can be in an Imperial prison. Then again, nobody has tried to dismember her for a good few months, so incarceration does have one point over the outside world.

She looks down, to her lap. Her hands have automatically balled into fists, the skin stretched tight over her knuckles. Letting out a slow, shaky breath, she loosens them, wiggling her fingers in an attempt to relieve the tension.

Her visions have been more unstable lately. They’ve certainly been harder to access since she got locked up. Turns out there’s something about being confined in a cinderblock cube that makes your brain shut down. Not that she’s ever had a huge amount of control over them, but this is definitely something new.

Maybe that’s a good thing. It’s hard to fantasize about escaping when your only visions of your future outside involve your death.

Her eyes drift from the blank wall over to the cell door. It’s a lot stronger than it looks. During the first week or so she devoted all her time and energy to busting out. After every attempt failed, she began losing steam. Which brings her to where she is now. Not acting, but anticipating. Sometimes you have to let your opportunities come to you.

And today they do come, in the form of a grumpy, middle-aged woman.

She hasn’t been sitting there for long when a small group of people stop outside her cell. They pause for a minute and then the door creaks open, revealing two guards and another inmate.

Jyn crosses her arms and suppresses a sigh. She’d started to hope that they had forgotten about her and the two-person cell she had to herself. Sharing has never been her strong point.

The other inmate is human. It’s a fairly even mix in this prison; no one species has a monopoly on pissing off the Empire. The woman is probably mid-forties, Jyn would estimate. She’s tall and scrawny, with arms that look like they were muscled once but have since lost their power. She must have come from a hot planet; her skin is reddish-pink and her wispy blonde hair has been cut short.

The woman looks Jyn up and down, grunts, and walks over to sit on the empty bunk. Behind her, the door closes and is locked again. Jyn watches her for a minute more, idly wondering what she’s been arrested for. It can be hard to tell, with the Empire. You don’t have to do anything illegal, only something inconvenient. It’s not as if they have any rules to play by.

One thing is for certain: the new woman is used to prison. The ease with which she carries herself gives that away; she’s unfazed by the bars or the hardness of the bunk. This could be interesting.

Outside the cell, the usual buzz of noise starts to increase. Mechanically, Jyn rises and walks to the door. Everyone always makes a fuss about breakfast; it’s probably the liveliest time of day. Even though it always pans out in exactly the same way, it doesn’t stop half the cells from going nuts. A couple of inmates usually try and grab the guards when they slide the rolls under the door, others content themselves with hurling insults.

She rests her elbows on the crossbar of the door, even though she’ll have to step back when it’s her turn. The guards don’t feed you unless you’re not touching the door when they come around. For the moment, though, she can make use of her vantage point. The prison was based on a panoptic model, but without the centerpiece. So she can see into all the cells opposite, just as they can see into hers. Narrow metal walkways run round each tier, with steps connecting them to the ones above and below. The walkway on the next level up blocks any view of a ceiling she might get if she were to stick her head through the bars of the door.

It’s entirely possible that the building doesn’t have a ceiling. She’d been beaten half to death when they first brought her in, and she can’t remember looking up.

The noise continues to build. Nearly all the prisoners in her eye-line have taken up similar positions by the door. Most of their silhouettes are familiar, they’ve all been here for some time.

A movement behind her catches her attention. The other woman has now stretched out on her bed, her eyes shut. Jyn recognises the power move and the brash confidence it implies.

A guard stops outside their door. Jyn obediently steps back and he pushes a single roll underneath.

‘Hey,’ she says. He pauses. ‘There are two of us now. You need to give us another one.’

The guard looks at her and then at the other bunk. It’s impossible to read his thought process through the helmet. He shrugs. ‘Haven’t updated the ration log.’

He continues, without another word.

She hadn’t really expected to be taken seriously, but it’s still annoying. They’re only small rolls, barely enough sustenance for one person. She picks it up, glances back at the other woman who’s still feigning sleep, and bites into it.

She doesn’t get very far before the sound of chewing alerts her cellmate. The woman practically leaps up, suddenly animated by anger.

‘Hey!’

Jyn keeps eating. If she wolfs it down fast enough, there won’t be any left to fight over.

The woman is not impressed. She makes a grab for Jyn, who sidesteps. A niggling voice in Jyn’s mind is saying that this is more trouble than it’s worth, but she can’t help herself. She’s just so _bored._

To her credit, the woman doesn’t do things by halves. Having found other methods unsuccessful, she tackles Jyn and sends them both rolling to the floor.

It’s been a good while since Jyn’s been in a fight, but she’s glad to feel her reflexes coming back to her. She dodges the first blow and gets her own in, her fist slamming into the woman’s shoulder. The woman grunts and lashes out again, catching Jyn in the chest. God, she’d forgotten how much getting punched in the boob can _hurt._ She rolls, trying to regain control of where they are. The woman tries to pin her down, but Jyn wriggles free of her grip and springs up, ready to meet her blows on even ground.

She takes the offensive now, lunging forward instead of waiting for the woman to come to her. There’s something so calming about a fight, it’s clearing her head and giving her energy. The other woman is good, twisting away from the punches and landing a few of her own, but Jyn is better. Maybe the longer you’re locked up, the more pent-up anger you have.

She lands another blow on the woman’s stomach. The woman retaliates by grabbing a handful of Jyn’s hair and yanking it. Pain explodes on her scalp and she lets out a sound that’s half scream, half yell. Her hands fly to her head, frantically trying to loosen the woman’s grip. After a moment or two she succeeds, but not before the woman punches her in the gut.

The other prisoners have started to notice. They’re not exactly being subtle, crashing around the cell the way they are. Jyn can hear shouts, both from inmates and from guards. They’re going to get interrupted and she has to win before they are. A stalemate will only end in a rematch, and after that it will be a wonder if either of them are ever let out of solitary.

With a last burst of energy, she punches the woman in the neck, effectively cutting off her windpipe. While she’s winded, Jyn shoves her backwards into the metal edge of the bunk. The woman lets out an exclamation of pain as her face collides with the edge and suddenly there are hands on Jyn’s shoulders roughly pulling her away.

She’s cuffed, dragged out of the cell and held outside while the guards examine the other woman. Even with the guards on either side of her and aches that promise future bruises, Jyn can’t quash a sense of satisfaction. The hubbub from the meal has died down and everyone on this tier is staring at her. It’s a strange, magnetic curiosity that she can almost feel, radiating from every side. Fights aren’t rare, but they’re not everyday either and will always draw an audience.

Besides, if you’re going to get a reputation, it’s better to establish that you win fights instead of losing them.

It’s then that she sees him. Leaning against the door of a cell, not quite opposite, a man with untidy black hair and stubble. His clothes are similar to hers: scruffy and non-uniform. She doesn’t recognise him, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s new. His eyes, like everyone else’s are fixed on her, but he’s too far away for her to pinpoint his expression.

Jyn’s not sure why it’s his gaze she meets, and not anyone else’s. Maybe she does know him, but has forgotten when. She moves as if to fold her arms across her chest, momentarily forgetting the cuffs. Unable to separate her wrists, she relaxes her arms instead. Out of the corner of her eyes, she can see guards cuffing the other woman and escorting her from the cell. She’s not too badly injured; they’re probably relocating her to a different cell. The Empire doesn’t offer medical treatment to its prisoners. Inmates are usually left to look after themselves, unless their wounds are so severe that it’s going to cause disturbance. Then it’s a quick shot to the back of the head and the problem is solved.

As she watches the woman’s retreating back, Jyn spots somebody else approaching on the walkway. An officer flanked by two more guards. Her heart sinks. This is one of the side effects of fighting that she really should have considered.

The officer halts and gives her a cursory glance. Which woman is he looking at? The petty criminal they have listed on their records, or has someone taken the time to figure out who she really is? It wouldn’t take much digging to unearth those details and there are at least a dozen things she doesn’t want them to know. Her real name, for one. And her previous occupation, for another. Neither of those would make her popular.

To her relief, the officer doesn’t give any indication that he’s done any research. He stares at her for a moment longer, contempt evident in every line of his face. Then he steps back, gesturing for her to return to her cell.

She looks over her shoulder as she re-enters, but the guards block her view of the cells opposite. Even so, she gets the feeling that everyone’s still watching; including the man with the black hair.

 

Her actions do not pass entirely without punishment. She has her cell back, but this time she is shackled to the wall. They’re old-fashioned chains, made of a dull rusty metal. She didn’t think any restraints like this still existed but it makes sense that they would here. They’re definitely more uncomfortable than the newer ones; the metal cuts into her wrists if she moves them too fast. The chain is just long enough for her to reach the door, but she can’t rest her elbows on the bars anymore.

Jyn waits for the guards to leave before lying down, alone for the second time. Maybe the other bunk is becoming cursed. It’s just the sort of thing that would happen.

She shuts her eyes, and wills a vision to come to her. Sometimes this works. The ones she calls herself are small things: flashes of the future rather than whole scenes. An image rises in her mind, of cream-coloured stone. She suppresses it quickly and tries to conjure something else, but it’s useless. Her brain is quite insistent; _either you can have that or you can have nothing._

Her head is still tender where her hair was pulled. She raises her hands to touch the scalp gently, dragging the heavy chains with her. Most of the rest of her body hurts, too. She’s recovered from much worse, but even so it’s going to be an unpleasant few days.

It’s the same guard who delivers the evening meal. Of course, their uniforms are identical, but there’s something about the deliberate way that he slides two freeze-dried packets under the door that gives him away. It’s too much effort to get up, so she cranes her neck round to watch him as he realizes that she’s alone in the cell.

Clearly irritated, he shakes his head but doesn’t want to risk reaching into the cell to retrieve them.

It gets gradually quieter as the evening fades into night. If it weren’t for the scheduled meals and the drop in temperature it would be impossible to measure time. Jyn curls up as much as she can with the chains. The dual goals of preserving heat and not putting weight on her bruises are difficult to reconcile, and ultimately the desire to be warm wins out.

Still, it’s a fitful night’s sleep. It’s as if every time she starts to doze off a new part of her begins to hurt, dragging her back into consciousness. The only positive is that the courtyard vision doesn’t happen again, though by now she doesn’t need to have it to be able to picture every moment.

Then in the early morning she’s jolted awake. It takes her a moment to gather her bearings and realise that the door of her cell has been opened. The officer from the previous day is back, along with more guards.

So much for forgetting about her.

She sits up slowly. This is what it must feel like to be old, when your joints protest at moving. One of the guards enters, come to swap the heavy-duty manacles for a smaller, more lightweight pair of cuffs. She follows him out of the cell as instructed, idly speculating on what they’re planning to do.

They could make an example of her, of course. It would be a good reminder to other prisoners of what happens if you’re disruptive. Or maybe they did their digging and realised who they were dealing with. She must have some secrets they want.

Most of the other prisoners are still asleep. Jyn finds herself glancing over to the door where she’d seen the man the day before. The doorway is empty, but she isn’t surprised. In a way, it’s a relief that the audience for her victory yesterday aren’t here to see the consequences now.

One of the guards prods her in the back with his gun to get her to walk faster. She stiffens, but otherwise doesn’t react. They’re not going to kill her. It’s rare you can be so certain about that with the Empire, but it’s the upside of having lived through your death a hundred times. She knows exactly how it will happen, and it’s not like this.

Straightening her back, she follows the troopers down the corridor. They’ve barely gone a dozen yards when she sees an explosion, right before her eyes. She cries out, flinching away from the flames, but when she blinks there’s nothing there.

The guard prods her forward again. She can assume they’re giving her a weird look. She wasn’t exactly behaving in a normal way. But it’s been a long time since a vision came so spontaneously, so she wasn’t prepared for it.

Before she’s had too much time to think about the explosion and its implications, there’s a sound – a faint _boom_ \- from a little way off. She sees the officer glance around, surprised. He raises his wrist and is about to speak into his cufflink when the bridge blows up, a hundred yards in front of them.

Jyn reacts the fastest. She swings her arms round to knock out the guard behind her. The guard in front sees what she’s doing too late; she kicks him against the railing on the edge of the bridge. The railing digs into his stomach even through the armour, winding him. Meanwhile the officer is ignoring her completely; he’s speaking rapidly into his radio and drawing a blaster, evidently looking for intruders. Grabbing hold of the blaster one of the other guards had dropped, Jyn aims it at the remaining trooper.

‘Undo the cuffs.’

She can’t read his face through a helmet, but she doesn’t need to. He’s smart enough to know that she could shoot him without drawing breath, and that when a violent criminal is pointing a weapon at you it’s best to do what they say.

As soon as he’s pressed the release button, she fires. The blast hits him in the thigh and he staggers backwards, but she’s not hanging around to see the results.

Another explosion happens, bigger this time. This one tears a hole in the metal walkways on the other side, taking half the cell doors with it. Then there’s another, and Jyn’s not the only one out and running anymore. The air fills with smoke, there’s shouting and blasters going off in every direction.

She sprints along the walkway, dodging the other inmates. Cooped up inside a cell, she’s lost a lot of fitness, but adrenaline has taken over now. The bridge above her explodes, raining chunks of metal down onto the lower tiers. She flattens herself against the wall, her arm raised to protect her face.

She gets lucky; most of the pieces land further down. As she starts off again, she takes a second to look up. There’s too much smoke to get a clear view, but from what she can see the building stretches up into the distance. It’s a lot bigger than a prison has any right to be.

Jyn’s almost at the other side of the walkway when there’s a turnoff into a corridor. She hurries down it, still clutching the stolen blaster. The new environment is even more confusing: sirens on the walls are flashing and blaring and people are running in all directions. A line of stormtroopers run past, but they barely notice her. There must be a severe rebel attack underway for nobody to care about escaping prisoners.

Further on, the corridor branches out into several smaller passageways. She picks one at random and continues to run, trying and failing to remember anything about the layout from when they brought her through on the way in. All of the corridors look the same anyway; and right now they seem like equally bad choices.

Yet for the second time, fortune works out in her favour. After a couple of hundred yards, the corridor opens out into a hangar. This Jyn does recognise. Filled with small Imperial aircraft, it’s one of the main loading bays for arriving prisoners. And as with the rest of the base, the attack has thrown it into chaos.

Staying close to the wall, she considers one of the closer ships. Piloting has never been something she can do, but it’s not like she has a choice. If her luck holds out, she’ll be able to get far enough to crash land on the nearest planet and take things from there.

A sudden movement nearby catches her eye. She turns her head in time to see someone sprinting up the loading ramp of an Imperial shuttle. They weren’t wearing any uniform, so they must have been another prisoner.

It’s a decision she can make quickly. She doesn’t trust other inmates any more than she does the Empire, but there’s a chance the other person knows more about flying than she does. They’ll have the common objective of getting away and she can always threaten them with the blaster if negotiations go badly.

Glancing around to make sure no one has noticed her, Jyn sets off sprinting again towards the shuttle. It’s about fifty yards away and in open ground, but her luck holds out and she reaches the boarding ramp unharmed. It’s almost as if the ship was waiting for her because as soon as she’s up the ramp it begins to rise, closing off the exit.

Alone in the dark she stops, for a second, to catch her breath. Tomorrow – if she’s still conscious by tomorrow – she’s going to pay for the sudden exertion. Her lungs are on fire and the muscles in her legs are protesting.

A light turns on behind her. Very slowly, her grip around her blaster tightening, she turns around. What she didn’t know about Imperial shuttles is that the entry ramp comes up just behind the cockpit.

The other inmate clearly knows his stuff. He’s already in the pilot seat, preoccupied with flicking switches and adjusting dials. He’s too absorbed to notice her, but she recognises him.

She really shouldn’t be surprised that it’s the man with the black hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other things:
> 
> \- The Panopticon is a design for a prison made by English philosopher Jeremy Bentham. It takes the form of a circular building with a watchtower in the middle and cells round the edges, so that at any time a watchman in the tower can see into all of the cells, but they cannot see into the tower. If I'm not being clear enough/you're interested to know more, you can read about it [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Panopticon)
> 
> \- This is the first Star Wars fic I've done, so I'm gonna be honest and say I will probably make a mistake about a ship or planet or other world detail at some point. I care a lot about the universe and the characters in it but I'm not on top of all the minor details. Also I've already introduced a couple of fairly major AUs so it's not going to be exactly like canon anyway.
> 
> \- If you're confused by the title, look up the song 'Another Day' in the musical RENT. It's a song I like a lot, and the line that immediately follows this one would probably explain why I picked it. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this chapter or have any questions, please let me know in a comment or send me an ask on [Tumblr!](http://betweentheheavesofstorm.tumblr.com)
> 
> *Edit: I'm going to attempt to keep an update schedule, which hopefully means new chapters every Friday. No idea if I'll be able to stick to this, but it'll give you a rough idea of when to expect the next instalment*


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s got a point. And while she doesn’t trust him, she does believe him with this.

Jyn stares at him for a long second, frozen in place with her blaster leveled at the back of his head. In a distant part of her brain she notes that he clashes wildly against the shuttle interior: scruffy and mismatched where the cabin is sleek and organized. Not that she is any less out of place, bruised and out of breath and clutching a stolen gun.

The moment passes, and she renews her aim.

‘Can you fly this?’

He actually jumps, that’s how startled he is. He stares at her face and then at the weapon in her hands. Then, very slowly, he raises his own hands until they’re level with his shoulders in a pacifying gesture. When he speaks, his tone is low and careful.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Escaping. What does it look like?’ They doesn’t have time for this. ‘Can you fly it, or do I need to shoot you and do it myself?’

He doesn’t answer immediately. His gaze has returned to her face and she recognises the look. He’s trying to figure out whether she’ll use the blaster or not.

It gives Jyn enough time to return the favour and size him up. He can’t have many years on her – but like her, he holds himself like someone older. And he’s good looking, too, if you care about that sort of thing.

‘I can fly it,’ he says, breaking the stalemate.

She takes another second deciding whether to believe him. It’s hardly as if he’s likely to give any other answer with a blaster pointing at his face. On the other hand, if he does know what he’s doing her chances at a successful escape will improve dramatically.

‘All right,’ she says. ‘Take us out.’

He nods. She doesn’t have time to assess whether he knows the gamble she’s making, because his attention has already moved back to the control panel. Keeping her blaster trained on him, she moves forward and sits in the co-pilot’s chair.

This better be worth it. The man seems to know what he’s doing; flicking switches and pressing buttons with confidence. Maybe he’s just a good actor. He could have a blaster of his own stashed away somewhere and be planning to shoot her as soon as they’re away.

In fact, it wouldn’t take much to turn into a lose-lose situation. If he can’t fly the shuttle, they’ll either crash and die or be recaptured. If he can, then she needs him and he doesn’t need her and that would provide him with a motive to get rid of her.

The man flicks a switch and with a rumble, the shuttle engines turn on. Jyn shakes herself mentally. If they manage to get out of the prison, then she can worry about him.

‘D’you think they’ve noticed us?’ she says aloud, cutting through her train of thought.

‘In that chaos?’ he glances up from the controls to the view through the windscreen. ‘Let’s hope not.’

He has a point. The hangar isn’t the smoke-filled madness of the rest of the building, but it’s far from serene. Stormtroopers are jogging past, other ships are taking off and landing and it definitely doesn’t look like anyone is watching their shuttle.

‘Here goes.’ Very carefully, the man sets the craft in motion. For an excruciatingly long moment the shuttle just hangs there, hovering in midair without moving. Jyn half expects it to crash back down again. She seems to have forgotten how to breathe; all she can do is hold onto the blaster and keep her eyes fixed on the person she’s trusting to get here out of here.

The next second, they’re moving forward through the hangar. The exit is visible and yet terrifyingly far away: a black rectangle almost blocked by other ships arriving and departing.

Nobody would shoot them down while they’re still inside, surely. It would be too dangerous; they’d risk hitting one of their other ships. Plus, among the ships that are leaving, the troops don’t have any reason to suspect that this particular one has been stolen. Unless somebody was watching the monitor for one of the hangar cameras, but if that’s the case they should have acted already.

Despite his confidence, the man is sweating. Jyn can see the sheen on his forehead. He steers to the right to give way to an oncoming ship, a similar shuttle. They pass so close to it that for a split second she can see into the other cockpit. There are no faces, just blank helmets, and she realises with a jolt that she is just as visible. And however preoccupied the troops are with the attack, there’s no getting around how suspicious they look – a scruffy young man at the controls and an equally scruffy young woman holding him at gunpoint.

They’re past the ship in a blink, but she’s not in the mood to waste time.

‘Go faster,’ she says. ‘They saw us; they’ll raise the alarm.’

‘I think they have bigger things to worry about,’ the man responds, but he increases the pace anyway.

She shouldn’t be as worried as she is. However badly this goes, it’s not going to kill her. Another scenario already has that covered. Yet no matter how many times she rationally reminds herself of that, it does nothing to reduce the sick feeling that’s spreading through her body.  

The end of the hangar is much closer now, getting bigger by the second. Jyn finds herself leaning forward slightly, as if she can bring it closer by tilting her body. They maneuver round a couple more ships. It seems that this part of the gamble is paying off. Whoever he is, her fellow escapee does know what he’s doing.

A heartbeat later and they’re out, suddenly engulfed by space. The change is so immediate, Jyn’s reminded of diving into water. Where there were bright lights and silver grey surfaces there is now nothing but darkness on every side.

It ought to be liberating, yet she still feels queasy.

‘They can still stop us,’ she says. ‘Can we go to light speed?’

‘That’s how I know you’re not a pilot,’ the man replies, without glancing up from the controls. ‘For that jump, you’ve got to make calculations. And for those calculations, you need a droid.’

‘So what’s your plan? Keep going at this pace and hope they don’t care?’

‘If you could do a better job, you’d have shot me by now,’ he says, which is, irritatingly, a good point. ‘This is fast enough.’

Somehow, she isn’t reassured.

‘Is this your first time flying an Imperial shuttle?’

‘Yes,’ he admits. He can, now, when the immediate danger of her shooting him is past. ‘And I’m still getting to know it, so I’d appreciate it if you let me concentrate.’

She still kind of wants to bug him about light speed, as there’s something really intimidating about just cruising away from an Imperial space station. But he hasn’t messed up so far and he also seems to be right about the Empire’s priorities, so she doesn’t say anything.

In fact, she spends the next ten minutes watching through the windscreen, waiting to see TIE fighters appear in pursuit but they never do. Nobody even hails their radio. The shuttle may as well be invisible.

They continue to fly in silence for about twenty minutes. He’s focusing on the ship and she’s focusing on him. It’s troubling her a little, how he seems capable of completely ignoring the blaster that’s still aimed in his direction. He’s either used to being threatened or doesn’t consider her a threat. She’s just got to hope that it’s the first one.

Eventually he seems to decide that they’ve gone far enough to consider themselves out of danger, for he slows the pace to something steadier and sits back in his chair.

‘Do you have to point that thing at me?’

‘I’ve only just met you,’ Jyn points out. ‘I’d say it’s a reasonable precaution.’

‘True. And yet I just saved both our lives.’

‘Oh yes, you had a choice about that.’

‘So what’s your plan?’ He swivels the chair a quarter-turn so that he’s facing her, completely unruffled by her comment. ‘You want me to fly you somewhere?’

That was what she’d originally decided, but during the flight she’d had another idea.

‘If I didn’t, where would you go?’

‘Yavin IV,’ he says, without hesitating.

‘And what does that have?’

‘People I need to see.’

‘What kind of people?’

‘Rebellious ones.’

‘You’re with the Alliance.’

‘You say it like it’s a bad thing. Or did you get attached to the Empire’s hospitality?’

God, this is going to be a picnic. If she’d known he was part of the Rebellion, she might have shot him there and then and taken her chances at flying.

‘I just don’t see the point,’ she says. ‘You lose every fight you start.’

He opens his mouth indignantly to respond and she realises that she really doesn’t have the energy for this argument right now.

‘Look, this really isn’t something we have to talk about. Just set a course for Yavin IV. You can drop me off on the nicest planet between here and there.’

‘All right,’ he says, though there’s definitely a hostile edge to his voice that wasn’t present before. Apparently insulting the Alliance is worse than threatening him. Rebels and their ridiculous priorities.

‘It will be a while before we can stop for supplies,’ he adds. ‘Do you want check if we stole provisions, too?’

She hesitates.

‘I’m not going to turn around and fly back. If I wanted to betray you, I’d have to wait until we landed.’

He’s got a point. And while she doesn’t trust him, she does believe him with this.

A quick search of the shuttle turns up few things of use. There isn’t any food, which is definitely the worst thing. She does find a couple of small bacta patches and an emergency blanket, but it’s difficult to see the advantages of these with an empty stomach.

Logically it makes sense: shuttles aren’t built for long journeys, but Jyn can’t help feeling that somehow the Empire is screwing them over from afar.

Something that she’d – well, not quite forgotten, but maybe failed to comprehend – before is quite how _small_ this kind of shuttles is. It doesn’t take her long to have combed the whole thing and she’s starting to realise that it won’t take long to get uncomfortable. There’s a very small, cramped-looking emergency toilet, no shower and the only places to sleep are the floor and the hard benches where stormtroopers would sit.

Still, it’s better than prison.                      

She returns empty-handed, sliding back into the co-pilot’s seat with an apologetic shrug.

‘Find anything useful?’ the man glances at her.

‘Not really.’ She describes in brief detail her discoveries. He nods, like he’s expected it.

‘We’ll need to stop as soon as we can, to get fuel as well.’

‘I look forward to explaining why we’re in an Imperial ship,’ Jyn says. Then, coming to a decision, ‘I’m Jane, by the way.’

‘Cassian. I take it you accept we’re on the same side?’

He looks pointedly towards her blaster, which she’s attached to her belt. She had a proper holster once upon a time, but it’s now so broken that she’s just hooked the barrel though the remaining loop.

‘Something like that.’ Not wanting to leave the sentence hanging, she continues, ‘The Empire didn’t know who you were, did they?’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘You don’t have the look of someone who’s been tortured for information.’

 _That’s a look you’re familiar with?_ He doesn’t say it, but the implied question hangs in the air.

This time, it’s him who breaks the silence. ‘What did you do, then? How does somebody who doesn’t believe in the Rebellion found themselves in an Imperial jail?’

She shrugs. ‘Forgery. A couple of fights. Little things like that. If you ask me, I was a waste of the Empire’s resources.’

‘Lucky for you they didn’t agree.’

‘Yeah.’

‘So,’ Cassian says. Even though he’s looking forward, she can tell his attention is focused on her. ‘What are you looking for?’

For a second, she thinks he’s talking about Life and the question throws her. Then, he clarifies:

‘Between here and Yavin IV. What should I be noticing?’

‘Oh, um. Populated but unassuming? I could live without seeing stormtroopers for a while.’

She isn’t looking for anything, really. It would be a lot more accurate to say she’s avoiding something. And even that isn’t a hundred percent. It’s difficult to have long term plans when you know you’re not going to make it to the long term.

‘How long d’you think it will take?’ she asks.

‘A few days? It’ll depend on whether we run into trouble or not. And if you’re capable of keeping your head down.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I saw what you did to the last person who disagreed with you.’

‘Oh, come on. _She_ attacked _me._ What was I supposed to do?’

‘I saw them taking her out,’ he returns. ‘You didn’t hold back.’

He saw Jyn too, but she doesn’t mention it. Somehow it would feel like giving up ground. The last impression she wants to give Cassian is that she noticed him noticing her.

‘Sorry. Next time someone jumps me, I’ll ask if we can reconcile our differences in polite conversation.’

There’s another short pause. Neither of them know what to say next, so Cassian goes back to focusing on the ship and Jyn watches the sky.

The funny thing is that she wasn’t really that attached to it before. She wasn’t the sort of person to spend all her time looking up: she was always more focused on what was on the ground. When everything in front of you wants to kill you, it doesn’t give you a lot of time for stargazing.

Now, with the galaxy in front of her, she has to quell an urge to go everywhere and do everything. Never mind that she’s still going to die, that breaking out of jail doesn’t mean she’s free to do whatever she likes, that she’s reliant on a pilot whose priorities are very different to hers.

Following that train of thought, her gaze shifts to Cassian. For some reason it’s easier to look at him when his attention is elsewhere. It occurs to her that he can’t have been in captivity long, otherwise the stubble on his jawline would have grown into a full beard.

‘You should show me how to drive,’ she says, suddenly.

‘What?’

‘The ship. We’ll make better progress if we can both fly it.’

Cassian’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘Have you ever flown anything before?’

‘It can’t be that hard. And if I fly while you’re sleeping we’ll get there twice as fast.’

‘And take the risk of you crashing? It doesn’t fill me with confidence.’

‘I thought I was in charge here.’

‘I thought we had an agreement.’

She needs him, and they both know it. And so far, it seems the policy of not constantly aggravating him is the best one.

‘All right,’ she relents. ‘We can call it that if you prefer.’

‘Why don’t you get some rest?’ he suggests. ‘We can sleep in shifts. I’m good here for a while.’

‘It’s OK. I’m not tired.’

‘I bet you’re not bruised either. What if we get attacked and you’re about to pass out from exhaustion?’

‘And what if you fall asleep and crash?’ she counters.

‘I didn’t get beaten up, so I’m well rested. And wouldn’t you rather we go a bit further before stopping?’

‘Fine. I’ll see you later.’ Irritated, she gets up again and walks to the back of the shuttle. She couldn’t have landed herself with any rebel pilot; she had to get one with a brain and the contrariness to argue his points.

And there’s another side to it, one that’s only just occurred to her. It’s been so long since she had an actual, genuine conversation with somebody that it’s no wonder she keeps snapping at him. Thank god they’re just discussing practical options; small talk would probably kill them both.

In the rear of the shuttle, she’s brought face-to-face with the lack of bunks for a second time.

Grabbing the emergency blanket, she unfolds it and sits down on one of the benches. It’s hard and uncomfortable, possibly even more so than the bunk in her cell. That said; it is nice to have a blanket. She wraps herself in it until she’s cocooned. It is a lot warmer than the prison was.

Jyn shuts her eyes. As with the previous night, her injures seem to be hurting more now that she has no distractions. She hasn’t had a chance to examine her body since the fight, but can guess as to the location of the worst bruises. Maybe, if she breathes slowly enough, she can fool her body into falling asleep.

Rather than relaxing, she gets the sudden rush that always precedes a vision. A second later, she’s in a muddy forest.

The rain hits her first, quite literally, soaking her hair and running down her face in a freezing shower. She shivers, instinctively crossing her arms across her chest to shield herself from the weather. She’s never been fond of how physical the visions can be.

It isn’t a type of forest she’s ever seen before. The trees are huge: the trunks extend up so far that she can’t see the individual branches, just one dark canopy. As she watches, lightning flashes down and splits an enormous willow in half.

The vision is over as quickly as it began, but she must fall asleep because the next thing she sees is Cassian standing over her. He’s hovering uncertainly, evidently wanting to wake her without being inappropriate or startling her into attacking him.

‘Where are we?’ she sits up quickly, pushing the blanket aside.

‘Far away from anywhere important.’ He steps aside to let her get up.

‘How long was I asleep?’

‘A few hours.’ He says it dismissively, but he looks exhausted. ‘The controls are locked, so we shouldn’t move. If anything does happen – ’

‘I’ll wake you up.’ She pushes the bundled up blanket into his hands. ‘I think I can handle it.’

‘Just don’t touch anything,’ he says, in a tone of voice that isn’t hopeful.

‘I won’t,’ she says, irritated by his lack of faith and the accurate perception that her instinct is always to do what she’s told not to.

She leaves him to it, walking back to the cockpit. She’s automatically heading for the copilot’s seat, but Cassian’s not here so she pauses and sits in his chair instead.

Even with its minimal padding, it’s so much more comfortable than the bench she has to shake herself to prevent nodding off. She sinks further into the chair, watching the emptiness outside. It’s like a reverse of the panoptic prison: here she can see everything.

What _is_ she going to do, once she’s on land again with her independence back? She’s got to end up in a forest at some point, but the visions don’t come with timestamps. It will be easiest to do what she’s always done and find someone to work for. In this galaxy there are always openings for good bounty-hunters.

Jyn stares out into nothingness and begins to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's commented already! I'm glad you like it so far.
> 
> Since writing the first chapter I've watched Rogue One again and also spent a lot of time looking at Imperial shuttle blueprints. I'm veering between keeping things as accurate as possible and adjusting details as necessary for plot reasons. 
> 
> To give a rough idea of how long this will be, my current outline is for 13 or 14 chapters. I'll let you know if that changes (which, let's be honest, it probably will.)
> 
> *Edit: as stated in the previous end note, I'm now going to attempt to keep an update schedule, which hopefully means new chapters every Friday. No idea if I'll be able to stick to this, but it'll give you a rough idea of when to expect the next instalment* If for whatever reason I'm running late or you have any questions, you're welcome to contact me on [Tumblr](http://betweentheheavesofstorm.tumblr.com) in the comments. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone for reading, and if you enjoyed this chapter I'd love to hear your thoughts in a comment xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s as gentle as she can manage, which, judging by his winces, isn’t gentle enough. It’s the closest they’ve ever been, she thinks, and then pushes that thought away.

It’s a few hours later when Cassian wakes and rejoins her at the front of the shuttle. From the shadows under his eyes and the stiffness of his moments, Jyn guesses that he wasn’t any more comfortable than she was on the bench.

‘You didn’t wake me,’ he says, leaning against the wall and looking across at her.

She shrugs. ‘You needed the sleep. I don’t want to crash and die.’

She had thought about waking him, after the first couple of hours had elapsed. It was boring being the only awake person onboard, even if it was nowhere near as dull as prison had been. And there were sensible reasons to rouse him too – they were floating in unknown territory in a stolen ship, after all.

But he’d looked peaceful, and if one of them was going to be sleep-deprived, it made much more sense for it to be her.

‘See anything?’ he asks, standing back as Jyn relocates herself to the co-pilot’s chair. In the past hour she’s decided that she likes it less, but as she’s technically a passenger on this flight she can’t be choosy.

‘Nothing but a lot of stars.’

‘Good.’ He sets to work starting up the engines. The noise is a welcome change. Sitting by herself in the silence, with emptiness in front of her, it had started to feel like she was the only person alive in the galaxy.

‘We need fuel,’ he adds, as the shuttle begins to move.

‘Food, too.’

‘Do you need any medical supplies?’

Her hand moves, self-consciously, to her ribs. A part of her is surprised that he remembers she’s hurt.

‘No, I’m fine. Where are we going?’

He fiddles with the controls and manages to bring up a holographic map. It’s fairly rudimentary, but allows them some idea of their bearings.

‘I think here.’ Cassian jabs a finger at a small moon, not too far away. ‘It’s not political or busy enough for anyone to care that we’re in a stolen ship. Hopefully.’

‘Half the ships in the galaxy are stolen.’

‘Yes, but not from the Empire.’

He’s got a point, and she’s too hungry to be pedantic. Thinking about it, it hasn’t actually been that long since she last ate, and yet her stomach seems to think it’s been aeons. Probably one of the unforeseen side effects of escaping captivity: the combination of running and nerves results in burning a lot of calories.

‘We want to be as quick as possible,’ Cassian says, bringing her attention back to the task in hand. ‘The longer we’re around, the longer they have to decide we’re more trouble than we’re worth.’

‘OK, so we’ll split up? I’ll get food while you’re getting fuel?’

He shakes his head. ‘We’re going together.’

‘That’s way more conspicuous.’

‘And it’s safer.’

‘You’ve never stolen stuff before, have you?’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because it’s going to be so much harder if there’s two of us.’

‘Could there be any emergency funds somewhere?’ He waves a hand, gesturing at the cabin. ‘Most ships would have a secret compartment – ’

‘I don’t think the empire cares that much about its stormtroopers and they rarely fly alone,’ she argues. ‘Look, we could get fuel first and then fly somewhere else to get food.’

He nods. ‘I think we’ll have to. You still got that blaster?’

Wordlessly, she moves her hand to her belt.

‘Good.’

The rest of the journey passes without any meaningful conversation. Once again, she’s reminded that this is an inevitable consequence when you put two people who don’t chat together.

The view is entertaining enough. Jyn’s become so used to seeing just empty space that to have a moon looming up in front of them is kind of jarring. Yet at the same time it reminds her how much she’s missed being on land and having something genuinely solid beneath her feet.

It must rain a lot here, she thinks as they come into the atmosphere. From a distance the surface is a mixture of green and grey, but a closer look breaks the colours down into wooded mountains.

With the help of the hologram, Cassian locates the town they’d picked before and heads towards it. It’s even smaller than the map had made it look, no more than a cluster of wooden huts. They land on the outskirts, close to a fuel station.

‘You ready?’ he asks, sitting back from the controls and glancing across to her. She’s struck by how conspiratorial it is – but then, this is the first test of their alliance. Since their escape it’s only been the two of them, and so they’ve been able to stand apart and assess one another. Now, faced with the outside world again, they’re almost united.

‘Yeah.’

He presses a button, releasing the landing ramp. It hisses down and light floods into the shuttle. That’s another thing Jyn’s forgotten about; how natural light feels when it hits your skin.

Blinking in the brightness, Cassian walks down the ramp. After a beat, she follows him.

Tempting as it is to stop and focus on the solid earth she’s walking on, she forces herself to assess their surroundings. On the other side of the loading bay, a small group of people are watching the shuttle warily. Even from this distance, she can see that they’re all armed. Yet they did nothing to try and prevent the shuttle from landing, and she’ll bet that they’re at least a bit curious about the newcomers.

Gesturing for her to stay back, Cassian approaches the group. She obeys, mostly because it affords her a chance to see what they’re up against.

It’s a modest landing pad, with a surface of dirt worn smooth with regular use. About five hundred yards away, she can see the edges of the town. Behind the ship, trees rise up in irregular rows. It’s a similar forest to the one she saw in her vision, she realises.

Not that she needs a vision to tell her that a storm is coming. The air has a humidity to it – a sort of tightness that may break at any second. That, along with a warmth and heaviness, makes her want to get straight back on the shuttle and keep flying. Ironic, that an Imperial ship would become a place of safety.

First things first, though. They’re not going anywhere without more supplies. She redirects her attention to Cassian and the assembled men. He’s talking to them, spreading his hands in a charismatic, placating gesture. From their unchanging posture, she can guess that they aren't convinced.

She can hardly blame them. If she were in their position she wouldn’t take a chance on him either. He’s too good-looking, too easy to believe.

(Of course, in the position she _is_ in neither of those features are enough to disqualify him. Unfortunately.)

Wait, he’s waving her over. This can’t be good. Out of the two of them, she’s not the smooth talker and he knows that. Keeping the blaster secured in her belt, Jyn approaches.

‘Everything all right?’ she asks, using the same tone you’d use to talk about the weather.

‘Could you explain to these gentlemen how we bought the ship second-hand?’ Cassian smiles, though his eyes remain cautious.

‘That’s all there is to that story,’ she says, shrugging apologetically to her audience. ‘We’re not that happy with the model, but we were in a hurry so took what we could get.’

One of the locals – he might be the leader – looks at the others. She doesn’t like his expression. It’s not his caution – anyone would want to be careful, given the ship they’ve arrived in – but his confidence.

She knows something is off even before he moves, which is how she ends up with the blaster out and raised, level with the identical weapon in his hands.

‘Whoa, whoa.’ Cassian takes a step backwards. ‘We don’t want any trouble.’

‘Then you shouldn’t have come,’ he replies.

The others raise their weapons. They’ve got an eclectic mixture, no doubt reflecting this moon’s position away from major trading routes. Jyn spots two other blasters, some knives and a huge, rough-hewn club.

‘Clearly there’s been some misunderstanding,’ Cassian says, speaking slowly and carefully. Jyn realises with a flash of irritation that it’s the same pacifying tone he’s used when suggesting things to her.

‘I don’t think so,’ the leader growls.

And then, in that instant before everyone moves, Jyn senses that Cassian’s gaze has shifted from the gang over to her.

The moment is over before she’s had time to register it. He leaps forward, moving so quickly that even she is startled. He goes straight for the leader, tackling him to the ground in attempt to disarm him.

Jyn _stares_. She really, really shouldn’t be standing still and watching, not when an angry and armed group is surrounding her, and yet that’s what’s happening. Cassian has changed so completely he’s almost unrecognizable. She’s become accustomed to him being someone who is relatively low-key and yet now he’s radiating a bristling energy. He’s in his element, fighting with a kind of brutal grace and she gets the feeling that she can recognise him for a rebel now.

The others don’t take kindly to having their leader attacked. They rush forward and Jyn finds herself in her second fight of the week. This time around, though, she has a blaster, which makes it infinitely better.

She shoots the first guy in the kneecap and he goes down with a yell, clutching his leg. A second closes in on her; he’s the one with the wooden club. She ducks the blow and repays the favour by hitting him on the head with the butt of her blaster. That’s always an advantage of guns; they can be used as blunt instruments as well.

Three more are approaching. She doesn’t wait for them to come to her, shooting one and sprinting forward to engage the others. Adrenaline is finally kicking in, which is both good and bad. One the one hand, she’s not going to get tired so quickly, but on the other it always makes her a clumsier fighter.

Over her shoulder, she calls across to Cassian. ‘We should get out of here!’

‘And go where?’ he shouts back, in between punches. ‘We need fuel!’

‘We’ve got enough for a short journey!’

The conversation has distracted her; she gets hit in the stomach and goes down hard. Gasping for breath, she raises her blaster, only to have it kicked out of her hand. The guy’s boot also connects with her palm, sending pain up her arm. With no time to recover, she raises her other arm to block a blow aimed at her face.

It’s a bad situation to be in. Jyn tries to use her opponent’s force against him, to pull herself up, but doesn’t have the strength. Her lack of sleep and already poor physical condition are catching up with her and there are too many of the others.

Confident that he’s got her trapped, her opponent rests his knee on her chest to keep her down. The force pushes the remaining air from her lungs and her hands skitter desperately across the dirt, trying reach the blaster. After twenty-four hours of getting everything her way, it looks like her luck is finally running out.

She doesn’t see the blade itself, just the flash as sunlight glints off it. She grunts, shifting her weight in a desperate attempt to free herself, but the guy is too heavy. He brings the knife down and she flings out an arm instinctively to protect her face. There’s a dull moment of impact and then a sharp sting as the edge slices through her sleeve and hits skin.

She screams and has to fight the instinct to jerk away. The last thing she wants to do is drag the knife and widen the wound, even though remaining still is agony. Warm blood gushes out, running down her arm and falling onto her face.

A second later, both the knife and the weight pinning her down are gone and someone has grabbed her and is pulling her to her feet. Dizzy, she sways for a moment. It’s Cassian standing next to her, his hand resting on her uninjured arm and a mixture of blood and dust on his face.

‘I think you’re right,’ he says. ‘We should go.’

He doesn’t wait for an answer, setting off at a run and half dragging her along. After the first couple of strides her vision begins to clear and she shakes herself free. Her heart is pounding so fast it’s almost in time with her steps and she’s pretty sure she’s leaving a trail of blood behind her. A couple of blaster bolts speed past them, but as moving targets they’re difficult to hit. They’re almost at the shuttle now; good thing they left the loading ramp down.

Then she’s on the ramp and in the ship and Cassian is leaping to the controls to get them away as quickly as possible. She hurries to look and see if they’re being pursued, but none of them men have followed them to the ship.

She crashes almost as soon as they’re in the air, slumping against one of the walls and pulling her arm closer. It’s still bleeding profusely, but it doesn’t look like any major arteries have been hit.

‘Are you all right?’ Cassian asks, still concentrating on flying.

‘Yeah.’

‘Then I need you here. We’ve got to find a place to land.’

He’s right; the fuel they have won’t take them far. Bracing herself against the wall, she gets to her feet and makes it to her chair.

They’re flying low, just skimming over the tops of the trees. Ignoring the throbbing pain, she leans forward and scans the woods for any kind of clearing. Here and there the woods do thin, but in every case it’s to make way for rocks and boulders, completely unsuitable to land on. Ahead, mountains rise up sharply above the tree line. Jyn squints, hoping to spot some ridge or plateau wide enough for them.

‘I think there’s another town,’ Cassian slows the ship a little. He’s right; gathered at the edge of the mountains is another group of huts, similar in style to the last ones.

‘How about there?’ Jyn points to a spot a couple of hundred metres up the nearest slope, where a landslide has cleared a space. It’s not too far from the town to leave them completely stranded, but nor is it so close as to attract unwarranted attention.

‘Looks good to me.’ He aims for it, keeping the pace measured and flying a little higher. There’s a moment where the ship’s engines sputter and the bottom drops out of Jyn’s stomach, but they don’t lose any altitude. While she’s certain she’s not going to die, (that is, after all, one perk of being hounded by your future demise) she’s aware that crashing into a rocky slope is not going to do her health any favours.

The landing is bumpy compared to the last one, but they still reach the ground safely. She was right about the ridge, it’s easily big enough. Relieved, she lets out a long breath and notes that the tension is easing from Cassian’s shoulders.

They’re okay. The immediate danger is over. Which means that now she has the time and energy to start being embarrassed. It’s been a while since she’s needed rescuing like that. It was stupid, amateurish, to let herself get into such a position. Saw would have been disappointed if he’d known.

‘How’s your arm?’ Cassian asks, because apparently he’s incapable of forgetting what happened either.

She glances down at it, pulling at the torn edges of her jersey sleeve to expose the wound. She’s been lucky; the cut isn’t too deep. It still hurts like hell, though, and refuses to stop bleeding.

‘I’ve had worse.’

‘That’s not what I asked.’

‘I’ll be okay.’ The only consolation is that he looks just as bad. While he lacks an injury of the same scale, there’s a nasty scrape across his forehead that’s covered with dirt and his clothes are filthy.

‘You said there were bacta patches?’ he prompts.

‘Yeah.’ Getting out of the chair this time is the hardest still. Her legs aren’t happy with supporting her weight; as soon as she stands they threaten to buckle. Yet she’s determined not to need further help, so makes it to the benches without assistance.

Seated again, she pulls her jersey off over her head, so as to get a proper look at her arm. The cut hurts too much for her to care about Cassian seeing her in just an undershirt.

There’s so much blood on her arm, both dried and fresh, that it’s difficult to tell where the edges of the wound are. She’s probably going to have to slap a bacta patch on it for now and hope that they can get some more comprehensive supplies soon.

‘You really were fortunate,’ Cassian says, startling her. She hadn’t realised that he’d been watching. ‘That could have been nasty.’

‘They knew we had no money,’ she responds. ‘They probably knew from the moment we got off the ship.’

‘So, we’ll be more careful next time.’

Those words, it’s always those words. She’s never been a person to look forward to _next time_. It’s rarely better than the last time.

It’s awkward with one hand, so with his help she manages to place the bacta over the wound. It soothes the stinging a little, even if it doesn’t help with the feeling that the rest of her body has been fed through a meat grinder.

She can’t do much about that. There isn’t a full medpac onboard and anyway, the bruising isn’t severe enough to require treatment. Ideally, she’d find a comfortable bed and remain in it for at least twenty-four hours, but there’s never been a time in her life when that’s been an option.

Thankfully, Cassian provides a distraction. The scrape on his forehead, though less serious, is more difficult to deal with. Some of the dirt has become embedded in it, so it can’t be bandaged without being cleaned first. He has the idea of using the edge of one of the other patches to wipe away the dirt; only he can’t see what he’s doing so it doesn’t go very well.

‘That’s going to get infected,’ Jyn predicts. There are no mirrors onboard and it’s frustrating to watch him keep missing the worst bits, so she moves forwards and takes the bacta from him. His eyes widen in surprise, but he obediently stands there and allows her to remove the worst of the dirt.

She’s as gentle as she can manage, which, judging by his winces, isn’t gentle enough. It’s the closest they’ve ever been, she thinks, and then pushes that thought away. This has got to be the most surreal situation she’s ever experienced, tending to the wound of a rebel pilot after he saved her life.

In fact, no, that’s the weirdest thing that’s happened to her. Cassian didn’t need to save her. In fact, it probably would have been easier for him if he hadn’t. He could have made a break for the shuttle and proceeded, unhindered, to Yavin IV.

It must really suck to be a good guy.

At least, she steps back. ‘I think that’s okay.’

‘Thank you.’ He’s regarding her with an odd expression. No doubt trying to fathom why she’d give a damn about his wellbeing.

(If he figures it out can he let her know ‘cause she certainly doesn’t.)

He’s about to say something else, but she never finds out what because at that minute the storm breaks. It happens all at once: there’s a rumble of thunder immediately followed by heavy rain. Both of them look up automatically, as if expecting the shuttle ceiling show them the clouds.

‘I should go down and find some food,’ Cassian says abruptly. ‘The storm’s only going to get worse.’

‘I’m coming.’ She doesn’t even think about it, the words come out automatically.

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Why not? You’ve been in two fights in the last forty eight hours and I very much doubt that you could make it down the mountain, much less back up again.’

He’s right, of course, but she’s not giving up that easily.

‘So you trust me enough to leave me with the ship? Bold.’

‘No, I think you’re too sensible to try and fly it on your own for the first time, in a storm.’

‘And I’m supposed to believe you’ll come back?’

He lets out a huff of exasperation. ‘Jane, do you really think I’m going to abandon my ride out of here?’

It’s the first time he’s used her fake name. It sounds awkward – it feels awkward, even after half a lifetime of being anyone but Jyn Erso.

‘Fine.’ She seems to have spent a lot of the last day reluctantly agreeing with him.

‘I’ll be as quick as I can,’ he promises, zipping up the front of his jacket. There’s no way he’s going to stay dry, not with the urgency the rain is hitting the roof with.

She’s still not sure she’s happy with him leaving. It would be all too easy for him to join forces with the people he finds and turn against her, especially now that she’s lost her blaster. Yet so far he’s kept his half of the bargain and she feels like it will be all right.

That’s what she’s come to: relying on just a _feeling_.

Then again, when he lowers the ramp and steps out into the rain, it’s very easy to not feel jealous. At least it isn’t cold; the wind that blows in is mild at the worst.

She waits until he’s walked out of sight before raising the ramp again.

 

Jyn’s not sure how long elapses before he returns. She spends some of it listening to the thunder and watching the lightning light up the forest. Her last vision keeps coming to mind. Either something’s going to happen that will make her go outside, or this is a different storm.

At some point, she catches herself drifting off. Even though it’s unwise to sleep when she’s by herself, it’s very difficult not to. The sound of the rain drumming on the roof is soporific and she could really use a proper break. It’s not like she’s in a fit state to fend off any attackers anyway, especially now she’s unarmed. And unless Cassian gets into a spectacular amount of trouble and manages to lead his attackers back to the ship, it’s unlikely that she’ll have any company.

It’s the sound of the ramp hissing down that wakes her. Startled, she instinctively reaches for her blaster only to find herself grabbing empty space.

‘Hello?’ Cassian appears up the ramp, completely soaked and carrying a pack. His hair is plastered to his forehead and his clothes cling to his body.

‘Hi.’ She suppresses her relief. ‘How was it?’

‘All right. I got food.’

It’s the most beautiful sentence Jyn’s heard for a while.

‘What’s it like?’ she asks, taking the bag from him and rifling through it. ‘The town.’

‘Small. Damp. We can fly down and get fuel as soon as the weather clears.’ There’s a new brusqueness to his voice she hasn’t heard before, and she realises suddenly that he’s avoiding eye contact.

Slowly, she sets the pack down. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘I saw something interesting down there. You, actually. A hologram of you.’

Oh shit. Oh _shit._

‘I’d heard of you. You’ve made quite a name for yourself. But this was the first hologram I’d seen. Makes sense; otherwise I would have recognised you. Erso.’

Even though she’s expecting it, she still flinches. It’s the way he says it, the way everyone says it – as though pronouncing the syllables might contaminate them.

‘What do you want me to say?’ she asks, raising her head to meet his gaze squarely.

‘You lied to me.’

‘That’s what criminals do. We escaped from _prison._ Pardon me for not being wholesome enough.’

‘Not everyone the Empire imprisons is – ’

‘Like me? Yeah, you’re right. But not everybody they imprison is like you either.’

‘You’ve worked for them. The Empire.

‘I’ve worked for a lot of people.’

‘Is that how you justify it? Through denial?’ He shakes his head. The movement sends water droplets flying.

‘We all have to make a living,’ she says, unsure why she’s bothering to defend it. It isn’t something she’s proud of and Cassian’s already demonstrated he’s too honourable to believe her.

‘But a bounty-hunter?’ His expression hardens. Whatever it was they’d had developing, the foundations of an uneasy alliance – well, she can forget about it. ‘I dare say you don’t want the war to end. War means secrets and traitors, and you make money off those.’

‘What does a rebel do in peacetime?’ she shoots back. ‘Invent something new to be angry about?’

He gazes at her in disbelief; so furious he can’t find the words. And then he gives up. The energy runs out of his frame and he looks away, shaking his head. For some reason, it’s more insulting than if he’d shouted.

Well, if he can do it so can she. She turns her back on him, returning her attention to the bag of supplies. It’s a vulnerable position; he’s still got a blaster and they’ve established that their differences go beyond the realm of slight disagreement. On the other hand, she doesn’t think he’d shoot anyone while their back is turned.

It’s an awkward half an hour. They ignore each other, for the most part. She eats, and while she doesn’t enjoy the food as much as she thought, it’s enough to placate her stomach. Cassian waits for her to finish and then takes his share, keeping to the other side of the shuttle.

For a time she watches him openly, though the only thing she really gets from the observation is quite how soaked he is. Every time he moves, he leaves a little trail of puddles in his wake. He’s taken his jacket off and hung it up to dry, so there’s a larger lake underneath it.

He pulls off his boots and turns them upside-down. It’s only then that she sees the grazes covering his palms.

‘Your hands.’

‘Look at that. The bounty-hunter cares.’

She’s going to retort and make things worse, but right then she gets the pre-vision rush and has to sit down quickly. The familiar dizziness washes over her. It’s such a bad time for a vision to come, but her mind has never cared about being accommodating.

Now she’s running down a brightly lit corridor, a blaster in her hands and Cassian a few feet ahead. They must have been going for a while; she’s nearly out of breath and it’s taking a supreme effort to move her legs. He seems similarly tired, though he’s a few feet ahead. In the section of her brain that isn’t screaming obscenities, she notes that he’s lost his jacket, his shirt is torn and there’s a long gash running diagonally down his back from his shoulder blades.

A second later she’s back in the ship, gasping like she’d been running for real. Cassian is standing in front of her, juggling a mixture of confusion and indifference.

‘What happened?’

‘Flashback,’ she says. It’s an excuse she’s used before. ‘Sometimes I get them. Of stuff that’s happened.’

He accepts it. ‘So that was what, you selling out some unfortunate bastard?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Does it ever happen while you’re fighting?’

Why does he want to know? Because it would make her a hazard if they’re on the same team, or because it’s an exploitable weakness he could use against her?

‘No,’ she says. A more accurate answer would be _not yet_ , but she’s not going to give him that kind of advantage. ‘Why don’t you get some sleep? I can keep watch.’

‘Sure you’re not going to sell me out?’

‘I’ll never find another pilot who’ll fly me for free.’

Perhaps she’ll wake up and start the day over again. It all being a vivid hallucination would make far more sense than Cassian saving her life and then regretting it once he found out who she is. If she does, maybe she’ll tell him not to land at the first village they find, or make a break for it as soon as the meeting goes south.

But then, knowing the future has never given her any kind of control over it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, sticking to an update schedule. Who knows how long it'll last? I would post this chapter tomorrow afternoon so as to be "Friday" but it's 2am now so it counts as Friday morning. 
> 
> (An alarming amount of this chapter has been written/edited in the oddly liminal space between midnight and 3am. Apparently that's when my mind decides it's able to process writing.)
> 
> If you enjoyed the chapter or have any questions, please leave a comment below or send me an ask on [Tumblr](http://www.betweentheheavesofstorm.tumblr.com)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The things she does for life.

By the morning the storm has died down, though the sky hasn’t cleared. Jyn eats breakfast in the cockpit, looking out over the forest. Something about the isolation of the mountain brings a strange serenity to the view. On a clear day, she suspects, you could probably see for miles.

They’d slept in shifts again, though that was more a method of avoiding each other than any practical safety measure. With where they are on the mountain, it seems unlikely that anyone’s going to stumble across them.

She’s not feeling so great about the day’s plan. On the one hand, leaving their safe spot and descending once again into dangerous territory isn’t appealing. The odds of such a venture ending in some kind of fight are high and she really, _really_ is not in the shape for that. On the other hand, if she and Cassian have to remain alone together any longer, she might just have to kill him.

Even less thrilling is the prospect of heading down there unarmed. Yesterday’s brawl really has left her in an awkward position – no weapon and unfit for hand-to-hand combat. Then again, Cassian would probably be even jumpier around her if she had a weapon and he’s cautious enough as it is.

‘My objective hasn’t changed,’ she reminds him as they prepare for takeoff. It’s the first thing either of them has said all morning.

‘That’s not what worries me,’ he replies, without looking at her. He’s taking the very mature approach of treating her less like a person and more like a droid that has the capacity to explode and is deciding whether it should.

From a distance, she can tell that they’re both being ridiculous. There are enough people out there who want to kill them; it’s a waste of time worrying about each other. And yet knowing that does nothing to soothe her own paranoia.

It isn’t that she’s bothered by his behaviour in any personal sense. His opinion doesn’t and has never mattered. No, it’s the fact that he’s gone from being a tentative ally to a potential hazard. The only vague comfort is that it goes both ways.

The short flight down to the town passes without further conversation. It’s not as if they were huge talkers before, Jyn reasons. And even if she’s not nervous, the weight of what they have to do is still enough to occupy her mind.

This time, nobody is waiting by the fuel pumps. The landing pad is on the edge of the town, almost identical to the last one. She watches the nearest buildings as they touch down, but still there’s no one. If it weren’t for Cassian’s exploits the previous day, she would think the whole place is abandoned.

‘You’ll want to stay onboard,’ he says, getting up and pulling his jacket back on. It hasn’t had time to dry completely and must be uncomfortable.

‘No way.’

‘They’ve got holograms of you, remember? Even if they don’t attack you, we don’t want people to start saying Jyn Erso was here.’

‘And they’re not going to recognise you as the guy who stole food yesterday?’

‘That was on the other side of town. Hopefully word doesn’t travel that fast.’

Unfortunately, he does have a point. Though it’s been a while since anyone’s recognised her on sight, the possibility is still there. Plus it only takes one person to refuel the shuttle and it’s unlikely that he’ll relinquish his blaster to let her stand guard.

‘Just be quick,’ she tells him, reluctantly returning to her chair.

‘Of course.’ He leaves it at that, turning to step down the ramp.

She returns her attention to the view. Still no sign of anybody, but now there’s smoke rising from chimneys a little way off so people must be around. After a few seconds Cassian comes into view and then disappears again as he moves round the ship.

It’s oddly nerve-wracking, the process of sitting there and doing nothing. In fact, Jyn wouldn’t rule out the inactivity being the main source of her stress, rather than the situation. She’s not exactly the type of person to sit and let other people get things done.

(But perhaps, that attitude is what you get from a lifetime of other people fucking things up.)

Nor does it help that she can’t see Cassian. She tries craning her neck to look round the side, but she’s too high up.

It’s okay. He’ll be okay. He’s going to refuel the ship and then they’ll get off this damp and muddy moon and in a couple of days’ time she’ll be free to do whatever she likes. Well, free- _er._

And so far, their luck holds. No one appears and he fills the tank unhindered. She hears the clang of the fuel cap being replaced and is just starting to believe that they might get away with this when the stormtroopers appear.

Her stomach turns to stone in seconds. There are so many of them, pouring into view in an endless stream from the direction of the town. They’ve clearly spotted Cassian; their blasters are raised and moments later he comes into view. Jyn sees him silently gauge the distance between himself and the boarding ramp and realise he won’t make it.

Something twists inside her. That’s it; they’ve got him. He’s dropped his weapon and is raising his hands in a sign of surrender. Defeat doesn’t suit him.

She stays watching as the stormtroopers approach and cuff him. Belatedly, she remembers that shuttles are equipped with laser cannons, but they’re no use to someone who doesn’t know how to work them. It wouldn’t help now anyway; Cassian’s walking away with stormtroopers on either side of him and she couldn’t risk firing without hitting him.

It only occurs to be worried about herself when some of the stormtroopers break away from the main group to approach the shuttle itself. Do they know that she and Cassian are former prisoners, or are they working on the basic assumption that anybody who’s stolen an Imperial ship is bad news?

Spurred into action, she scrambles to close the boarding ramp and quickly relocates to the pilot’s chair. Despite Cassian’s refusal to teach her, she’s paid attention to his flying in the hope of picking up something.

Right. She can do this. It can’t be the hardest thing she’s ever done, especially not when the alternative is to try and take on thirty stormtroopers at once. Jyn exhales, and sets to work.

However meagre her knowledge, it’s enough to get her in the air. The takeoff is jerky to say the least, the shuttle swaying and dipping, but she’s off the ground and that’s what matters. Still taking deep breaths, she tries to gain a little altitude. Some of the stormtroopers are firing, but not with confidence. They know as well as she does that she doesn’t have a clue and that their best bet is probably to wait for her to crash.

She will admit that the fact that she doesn’t check to see if Cassian is watching isn’t entirely accidental.

Theoretically, the flying should get easier the more of it she does. Yet that doesn’t stop it from being a nightmare right now. She heads out over the forest, keeping the ship low so there isn’t far to fall if she does lose control. Of course, that carries the additional risk of dipping too low and clipping a taller tree. Her palms are sweating so much it’s a wonder she can hold onto anything. She doesn’t normally get motion sickness either, but the trees whizzing past are definitely inducing nausea.

After accidentally rising and dropping about ten metres, she comes to a decision. Clearly her priority ought to be to get off this moon but in her current state she’s not fit to fly anywhere. Not to mention that she needs to get a lot better at it before attempting a more ambitious journey.

At the speed she’s going, she’s gone far enough not to be in any immediate danger. Heart in her mouth, she slows right down and manages to drop into the nearest clearing.

The landing would be embarrassing if there was anyone to see her. The good news is that no part of the shuttle breaks, though it does make a horrible crunch.

She sits back in the chair. Even though she’s stopped, her hands are shaking violently and she can’t seem to get enough air into her chest. It was all going _so well_ until the stormtroopers showed up. Their stupid escape was working; it was actually working. They were getting somewhere. And now she’s crash-landed in the forest and for some reason she can’t get the image of Cassian being handcuffed out of her head.

She was always going to leave him if things got difficult. The reverse is equally true. Their alliance was always tenuous and it’s not like she hasn’t abandoned people before. He’s not any different from them.

Dizziness begins to replace the nausea. For a moment she thinks it’s just the next stage of her panic and then it increases and becomes identifiable as the pre-vision rush. Shit. Jyn hits out at the console in front of her in a frantic effort to stay grounded. Now is such a bad time for a vision to come, she’s not in any kind of condition to -

She’s in the courtyard, face-to-face with the pillar made of cream stone. The churning mess of emotions is replaced with a familiar cold dread. This one. Always this one.

Mechanically, she brushes the pillar with her fingertips, collecting pale dust. It’s an odd ritual; she’s never known why she does it, only that she has to do it time and time again. The sound comes from further down the colonnade and she moves to the next pillar. Somehow she’s startled every time, even though she knows everything that’s going to happen.

‘Jyn!’ the voice is familiar, though the shout is unexpected. She turns her head and sees Cassian crouched behind another column. ‘You go, I’ll cover you!’

This has never happened before, but she doesn’t have time to process it. She runs out into the courtyard, the way she always does. There’s the fountain and the stormtroopers and the bright orange sand. She raises her blaster and shoots two, missing the third by inches. She’s almost across the courtyard now, so any minute –

The shot doesn’t come. It just doesn’t. She makes it to the other side of the courtyard with her lungs burning and she’s under cover again, she made it and _somehow_ she’s still alive.

Jyn comes out of her vision with her head swimming. Her hands have finally stopped shaking, but that doesn’t mean she’s any more stable than she was. How can this have happened? She’s been through that scenes a hundred times; it’s been happening for _years._ And it’s never changed before. Everything right down to the tiniest detail has always been identical.

Except this time, this time Cassian was there and she _survived._ She made it. Leaning forward and placing her head in her hands, she thinks harder. There must be some correlation between the two details. It makes the most sense. What is it he says to her? _I’ll cover you_. And that must be what he does.

It must then follow that with Cassian in her life, she makes it through that situation and finds another time and way to die.

Only, he’s not in her life anymore.

She takes a deep breath. Her lungs still feel empty, even though she’s recovered physically from the vision. This is bad. If Cassian being there is the vital difference that means she survives, then she’s got to make sure he’s there. Which means a rescue mission.

To say that the prospect is uninviting would be an understatement. She’s injured, crash-parked in a ship she can’t fly without a weapon of any kind. She has no idea how many stormtroopers are around, or even if he’s still there. They could have killed him already or be taking him back to prison. Only he can’t be dead, because she wouldn’t have seen him otherwise. Fuck.

But then again, it’s not really a decision – not when she thinks about it. However much she doesn’t want to go back for him, it doesn’t compare to how it would feel to have that vision again and for it to revert. She’s spent so long being terrified by that courtyard that anything is worth escaping it.

She sets off without any further planning, reasoning that she can think on the way. It’s certainly going to take her long enough; the forest is dense and she covered quite a bit of distance in her haphazard flight. The air is as humid as ever, no doubt signifying another storm is on the way. Through gaps between the enormous trees, she can just make out the mountains. She picks out one particularly craggy peak to use as a guide. The last thing she needs is to get lost.

The longer she thinks about it, the more complicated it gets. Presuming she does make it to Cassian, she’s going to have to explain her return and the sudden attachment it implies. The truth would be the obvious solution, but she finds herself instinctively balking at the prospect. She’s never told anyone about that vision and she’s not going to start with some rebel pilot.

Oh god, he’s a rebel. Somehow that had slipped her mind. If she stays with him, she’s going to wind up with the Alliance. For somebody of her occupation, that’s not a safe place to be.

Wait, no, this doesn’t have to be a bad thing. She can be useful to the Rebellion. It won’t be fun, but she can do it. In a war, the side that can see the future automatically has a huge advantage. She offers that to them and they’ll have to provide whatever she asks for. A general amnesty ought to do the trick.

Maybe it’ll help if she feigns some enthusiasm about the Rebellion. Perhaps being in an Imperial prison put things in perspective or something equally stupid. Or something about Cassian’s dedication being inspiring.

The things she does for life.

 

It takes her a good forty minutes to reach the village. Along the way, she finds a small branch that’s half broken and twists it off completely. It’s a hefty piece of wood, about as long and thick as her arm, and while it doesn’t compare to a blaster it could still do some damage if wielded with enough force.

Even though she’s had more than enough time to plan, when she reaches the edge of the tree line she’s still winging it. It’s going to have to be a sneak-in-sneak-out type of scenario – no better ideas are coming to mind and until she knows what she’s up against planning would hardly be feasible anyway.

From what she can see, the stormtroopers have completely occupied the town. The inhabitants are gathered in the middle of the road, standing in uneven rows. Some of them are barefoot and a couple hold themselves stiffly, as if sore. It doesn’t take an expert to guess that they’ve been dragged from their homes.

As she watches, a stormtrooper pauses by one line of people. There’s a brief interchange and then they grabs hold of somebody, pulling them out of the crowd. It’s a young woman. The other people around her react immediately, surging forward, but are pushed back by more stormtroopers. The woman herself isn’t resisting. Is she too scared, or does she realise it will be futile?

It’s only when the woman is being escorted away down the main road that Jyn realises they might think that’s her. They’ve both got pale skin and brown hair and it might make more sense than the stormtroopers picking a random villager to single out.

Except that would mean that the Empire is looking for her. She’d assumed after their escape went unnoticed that they couldn’t be bothered. Or maybe they were after Cassian and he’s told them who she is.

Would he do that? He might; it’s not as if there’s any love lost between them. But how would he stand to gain from it?

If they _do_ know who she is, they’re going about the wrong way in trying to find her. Clearly nobody’s told them that the best method of catching bounty hunters is putting a price on their head.

(Even if they had thought of it, the irony would be lost on them.)

She’s getting distracted. Whether the Empire is pursuing her or not, she still needs to find Cassian. And if they’re taking the woman somewhere, it would make sense if they’ve taken him to the same place.

Well, it’s a plan as good as any. Keeping to the forest, she follows them. The road runs parallel to the tree line, so it’s not hard to stay out of sight. Dodging between the trunks reminds her of the stone columns. She pushes the comparison out of her mind. There are more important things to focus on right now.

The road ends in another landing pad. It’s not the one they were at before – this must be the other side of town. An Imperial dungeon ship is standing parked, taking up the entire space. Jyn finds herself flinching. She doesn’t recognise the model, but it’s intimidating nonetheless. She stays hidden as the stormtroopers escort the woman up a loading ramp. Given how many there are outside, there can’t be too many troopers onboard, she figures. Still, as the only thing she has to defend herself is a piece of wood, she’s not in a favourable position.

A few minutes later the stormtroopers return – at least, she thinks they’re the same ones, she can’t really tell. Of the woman there is no sign. Clutching her makeshift club, she waits until they’re a little way down the road before leaving the cover of the trees at a quick jog and hurrying up the ramp. To her immense relief, there’s nobody immediately inside. She wouldn’t have been able to see them even if there were; the lighting is so bright.

Blinking, she proceeds down the corridor. The layout is unfamiliar, but if it follows the basic design of most Imperial ships then it shouldn’t be hard to crack.

Sure enough, after a few paces she comes across a ladder leading downwards. Descending while keeping hold of the stick is more difficult than it should be, but she manages. This corridor too is empty, though she can hear the sound of approaching feet.

There’s another hatch and option to descend so she takes it, lowering herself out of sight. They probably keep prisoners in the hold, so she’s going in the right direction.

She doesn’t run into trouble until she’s found the cells themselves. Two stormtroopers are standing guard. By their relaxed posture, it seems they weren’t expecting company, but that doesn’t negate the fact that they’re armed with a lot more firepower than she has.

‘Hey!’ the one on the left notices her first. ‘What are you doing?’

Surviving better be worth this. She dodges the first bolt and swings her club up and round so that it collides with the bottom edge of his helmet. The force flips his head backwards with a sickening crack. She steps back, keeping her stance wide to maintain balance as she grabs hold of the other trooper’s blaster arm, yanking it downwards. His own force propels him forward and down, enabling her to grab hold of his helmet and snap his neck.

It’s over quickly. She seems to be running on a tally of one fight per day, but this so far is her favourite. Violence is usually more satisfying when you’re not the one getting injured.

Not that she has time to dwell on it. The two stormtroopers were standing in front of a compartment door; she takes a blaster from one of them and shoots out the keypad. The door hisses open.

The first thing she sees is the body of the brown-haired woman, collapsed in the middle of the floor. Jyn moves towards it gingerly, careful not to step on her feet. Did she try to escape, or did they realise they had the wrong person?

It doesn’t matter. Three cells run along the right-hand-side of the compartment. The first is empty, the second holds a Gungan and in the third is Cassian. He’s sat awkwardly on the floor, his wrists still cuffed together.

‘Hey,’ she hisses, moving closer to the door.

‘Wha – Jyn?’ he rises so quickly he nearly loses his balance. She must have missed some action; he looks awful. Half of his face has the red shininess that precedes bruising and his shirt hangs around his shoulders in tatters. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I need the Alliance. So for that, I need you.’ The cell doors have a similar keypad to the compartment. ‘Stand back.’

He’s so surprised that he doesn’t move.

‘You need the Alliance?’

‘Weirder things have happened. _Stand back.’_

This time, he obeys and she’s able to disable the door. As it slides open, she moves to block the way.

‘I need to tell you something important.’

‘Can it wait?’

‘No.’ She’s got no idea when other things are going to happen, so she has to do it now if she’s going to prove it. ‘This is going to sound weird, but I need you to trust me.’

‘Why should I do that?’

She ignores him. ‘When I zoned out yesterday, I wasn’t having a flashback. It was more of a flash-forward. Sometimes – sometimes I see things that are about to happen. That haven’t happened yet.’ You can tell she’s not used to telling people, the words stumble into the vaguest of explanations.

‘You mean like the future?’

‘Yes. I know at some point you’re going to get a cut across your back.’

He raises his eyebrows and then turns his body. The gash is already there, identical to the one she’d seen. ‘Try harder.’

‘All right. Another storm is going to happen and we’ll see a willow tree get struck by lightning.’ This is why she never tells anyone, it sounds so pathetic when said out loud.

‘We can discuss this later.’ He moves forward and she steps aside to clear the way. ‘Come on.’

She’ll have to make a stronger case another time. Passing him the blaster from the other fallen stormtrooper, she follows him through the ship, up the ladders and through what seems like a maze of passageways. They haven’t gone very far when alarms begin to go off. Cassian speeds up, until they’re both running.

It’s her vision: the two of them in a bright corridor with blood running down his back. The gash looks worse than she’d realised.

He stops suddenly and she nearly crashes into him; he has to fling an arm out to stop her skidding past. They’re nearly off the ship; the exit is in sight, but it’s impossible to see if it’s clear outside because it’s raining too hard.

Cassian swears under his breath. The storm must have only just broken, as if it had waited for her to go inside.

‘Where’s the shuttle?’

‘In the forest. Quite a way off; maybe half an hour if we run.’

He takes a moment to calculate and then shakes his head. ‘We’ll never make it. They could be outside waiting for us.’

It’s a plausible prediction and yet she’s certain he’s wrong. Everything else fits together too well – the forest vision, the fact that they have to survive.

‘We have to anyway,’ she says. ‘We’ll be moving targets and the visibility isn’t great. It’s a decent chance.’

Maybe he doesn’t believe her about the visions, but something tells her that he’s learning to trust her gut. Or maybe he’s remembering that survival is more or less what she does for a living.

He nods. ‘After you.’

She takes a breath and then dashes forward, across the corridor, down the ramp and onto the mud. The rain is pelting down, pounding against her shoulders and soaking her in seconds. She heads for the forest, not checking to see if there are stormtroopers or if anyone else has seen them. In fact, it isn’t until she’s in the trees that she looks over her shoulder to see if Cassian is still there. He is.

She’s still looking backwards when a flash of lightning illuminates the forest and the outline of the mountains against the sky. The peak she’d used as a guide before is almost directly behind her. Hopefully if she keeps it there, she can find the way back to the shuttle.

It’s the opposite of the outward journey in every way. Before, she was alone and careful and creeping along over an almost-silent carpet of moss and leaves. Now Cassian is beside her and they’re crashing through the undergrowth, dodging between the trees and doing their best not to slip. She’s not no idea if they’re being followed or not. The forest is dense enough to make it difficult to navigate in a stormtrooper suit, but then if the Empire has pursued them this far some trees aren’t going to stop them.

Just behind her, Cassian trips and falls headlong into a clump of ferns. She skids to a halt and hurries to him, pulling his arm over her shoulder and lifting him up. Her clothes are already drenched, but something about having an equally sodden body pressed against her side makes it still more unpleasant.

They set off again, this time with her half-supporting him. Jyn’s got no idea how she’s managing it, she’s too tired to carry herself let alone somebody else. Then she slips and he grabs her, and it occurs to her that maybe he’s not the only one who can be helped.

Now that she’s saved him, does that mean they’re even? Funny, when it’s only now that she’s going to propose a genuine alliance. Maybe that’s good, that they don’t owe each other. It means that this – whatever it’s going to be – can stay professional.

One of the shorter branches of a tree they’re brushing past swings round and catches her in the face and she loses her footing again. It’s more annoying than painful; some of the smaller twigs have snagged in her hair.

‘Wait,’ she says, pulling on Cassian’s arm to stop him as she frees herself. He stands back, giving her space, and it’s only then that she realises she recognizes the clearing they’re in.

‘Hey, listen.’ Twigs forgotten, she points at a willow tree just off to the right. It’s the same one, she’s certain. ‘That tree, the lightning’s going to hit it, like I told you. It’s going to – ’

Before she can finish her sentence, lightning cuts through the air and sears the enormous trunk in half.

‘There!’ she shakes him. ‘I _told_ you!’

He just stares, first at the tree and then at her. Raindrops are running down his face and catching in the stubble on his jaw, but he doesn’t seem to notice. She can’t work his expression out. It’s somewhere between disbelief and incredulity.

Thunder booms through the sky. They don’t have time to absorb this; every moment could bring stormtroopers closer. She grabs his bicep and tugs him forward. The twigs tear painfully at her hair, but she doesn’t stop. Getting away has to be their priority; everything else can take a back seat.

 

In hindsight, it’s implausible that they would make it. She’s exhausted, they’re both injured and it’s raining hard enough to drown them both. Yet somehow, somehow they find the shuttle and stumble onboard and they’re flying away, off the moon and into space.

He doesn’t say anything until they’ve made the jump to light speed and can count themselves to be at a safe distance. And then, it’s brief.

‘They thought she was you.’

‘What?’ Jyn leaves her chair and heads back to where they’d left the remaining bacta patches. She should probably change the one on her arm, but Cassian’s back needs attending to first.

‘The woman they shot.’ He activates the autopilot and walks, slowly, to join her. ‘They brought her in to see if I’d recognise her. And when I didn’t, they shot her without a word.’

‘That’s not your fault.’

‘No, it’s yours.’

‘I’m responsible for the Empire now?’

‘She was _innocent.’_

‘But I’d deserve it? Is that what you mean?’ She steps forward. ‘I saved you.’

‘Because you’ve got it into your head that you want the Alliance. That same Alliance you have so much disdain for.’

‘First you’re angry I’m in a grey area, now you don’t want me to pick a side?’

‘I don’t understand. You. Why you do anything.’

‘You don’t need to. The way I see it, you’ve got something I want. You can get me to Yavin IV and amnesty from the Rebellion. And you will do it, because it would be a fantastic asset to the Alliance if I can tell them what’s going to happen.’

‘Something tells me you wouldn’t enjoy being an asset.’

She shrugs. ‘Desperate times.’

‘I still don’t get how you did that.’

‘I told you. I mean, how could I have predicted that? It was lightning. There was no way I could have known what was going to happen unless I’d already seen it.’

‘You’ve always had these visions?’

‘All my life.’

‘Is it the Force?’

‘Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t really understand the Force, but it can’t be the weirdest thing in the galaxy.’

‘And you mean it when you say you’ll cooperate with the Alliance? Share your insights?’

‘Yes. I don’t like them, but I don’t like the Empire more. Might feel good to get in their way.’

He considers for a long moment, and then – ‘All right.’

‘Deal?’

Cassian nods. Then, in a very obvious attempt to lighten the mood, adds, ‘I’m not just agreeing because I need your assistance.’ He jerks chin towards the wound on his back. ‘I can’t reach it.’

‘Yeah. Sure.’ She hastily complies, taking the bacta and inspecting the damaged area. He shrugs off the remaining part of his shirt to make it easier. Carefully, she rests her palm on the top of his shoulder, above the edge of the cut. His skin is very warm. If it’s infected, how long would it take for a fever to set in?

‘I think I’ll use two patches,’ she says, her tone deliberately casual. ‘You might want to get it checked out once we’re on Yavin IV.’

‘Okay.’ He shifts his weight awkwardly, waiting for her to proceed.

Cleaning up each other’s injuries seems to be becoming a running theme, Jyn thinks as she applies the bacta. Bandaging, arguing, fighting – they’re compiling quite a repertoire. She’d never admit it aloud, but in the moments when they aren’t quarreling they do work well together.

Too bad her plan of ditching him and disappearing has gone up in smoke. She’d been looking forward to that.

‘Thank you,’ Cassian mutters, when she’s finished. She assumes he means for the medical aid, until he continues, ‘for coming back for me. Whatever motivated you – you did save my life.’

And he saved hers. It would be easiest just to point that out, yet for some reason what she says instead is, ‘I found out I was really, really bad at flying.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter should be dedicated to Katy Perry, as I've spent too much of this week listening to The One That Got Away on repeat. (I watched the music video for Diego Luna, the song was catchy and now I'm hooked.)
> 
> Also, though I have amazed myself by continuing to stick to my update schedule (even sticking to that fun tradition of uploading around 2am) I should also add that I spent upwards of half an hour staring at a paragraph in this chapter that I just could not get to work. For someone who's picked a very action-based AU, I really hate action sequences.
> 
>  
> 
> I hope everyone is having a good week! If you've enjoyed this chapter or have any questions, please let me know in a comment, I really do appreciate them xx


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, it’s easier to speak now that they aren’t making eye contact. ‘Don’t you know the horror stories about Jyn Erso?’

In theory, conversation ought to get easier now that they’re on the same side. Cassian certainly seems to think so, making several remarks that veer dangerously close to chatting. Jyn sticks with brief replies, with the rationale that if she makes it hard for him he’ll have to give up eventually. He does, but what she hadn’t counted on his her own boredom driving her into talking anyway.

‘What did you do in the Alliance?’ she asks, over their next meal.

Cassian pauses. To his credit, he doesn’t look surprised that she’s resigned herself to asking. ‘I was in Intelligence. And recruiting.’

‘You any good at it?’

‘I’m all right.’ He’s finished already with his food already; they hadn’t given themselves much. Better to eat sparingly then to run out. Brushing his hands off, he returns to the controls.

‘Do you like it?’ in a move that’s impressively courteous for her, she removes her feet from the console. They leave a smear of mud behind, which she’d feel bad about if it wasn’t so comfortable to prop her feet up.

‘It’s not a question of liking it.’ He frowns, leaning forward to look at one of the screens.

‘Something wrong?’

‘I’m not sure.’ The vagueness of the answer is probably intended to be reassuring, but she can see the tension in his shoulders.

‘What is it?’ she leans closer.

‘I think we’re being followed.’ He points at one of the radar screens. As she knows nothing about the system, the gesture is meaningless.

‘Explain.’

‘OK, so this ship has shown up a couple of times. I thought it was going in a different direction.’

‘But it’s following us? Is it – ’

‘Not Imperial,’ he says, anticipating the question. ‘It’s not Alliance either. Is there anyone who’d be after you?’

Jyn thinks for a minute. ‘Potentially. But I’m not in debt and the last they heard I was in prison.’ She definitely hadn’t left things on the best terms with a couple of people, but nothing that would warrant actual pursuit. Not that she’d put it past some of her old colleagues to overreact or take something too personally.

Or perhaps it’s a client seeking her out. Her reputation goes both ways; there must be people with unsavoury business that needs doing. In fact, that would make the most sense. Anyone about to hire a bounty-hunter wouldn’t want to be in a recognizable ship.

It’s going to be so frustrating if that’s what’s happening. Someone couldn’t have materialized with a job a couple of days ago. No, they had to wait until she was relying on Cassian for survival, so that however good the offer is she has to say no.

Somehow, the most bizarre part of that scenario isn’t her turning it down; it’s her receiving the offer with Cassian present. Jyn can already imagine his disapproval, how much it will set them back again.

‘It’s a big ship,’ he adds, dragging her out of her speculation. ‘They’re getting closer.’

‘What about hyperspace?’

‘It’ll take me a couple of minutes to run the calculations.’

‘Can I do anything?’

‘I don’t think so.’ He’s already started, turning dials and punching in numbers with remarkable speed. It’s an operation he’s used to, but still in a relatively unfamiliar ship. Has he ever had to do it this quickly before? It’s not inconceivable he might – the Alliance doesn’t exactly provide a quiet and trouble-free life – but she’s anxious nonetheless.

‘They’re speeding up,’ Cassian adds, pausing between his movements to recheck the radar screen. ‘They’ve got a lot more engines than we – ’

There’s a _clunk_ and the whole ship lurches to an abrupt halt, throwing both of them forward onto the console. Jyn manages to hit one of her bruises, causing a flare of pain in her ribcage.

‘ _Ow!’_

She pushes herself back into her chair. The ship is still shaking; she has to hold onto the armrests to stay seated. It’s difficult to tell when there are only stars in front of you, but she’s fairly sure they’re going backwards.

‘Is this a – ’

‘Tractor beam,’ Cassian finishes the sentence. ‘Yes.’ He hits another couple of buttons, possibly more out of frustration than anything else, and then sits back.

‘They’re pulling us in,’ she says. The words hang, flat, in the air.

‘Let’s hope they’re friendly.’

‘Yeah.’

They sit and watch the stars recede. It’s all they can do, at least until their captors reveal themselves. Jyn’s mind is whirring. If she is about to be approached by a potential client, things will go much more smoothly if they don’t realise Cassian is Alliance. Even though the majority of the galaxy is opposed to the Empire, the Rebellion has political connotations that not everyone is comfortable with.

She can just say he’s another escaped prisoner. None of his clothes seem to have the rebel insignia and his clothes are easily scruffy enough not to be memorable. Since his shirt was destroyed, he’s been wearing his jacket over a bare chest. Just a random pilot she picked up.

The shuttle lurches again and suddenly they’re inside the other ship, walls appearing on either side. Though she’s never been claustrophobic, the sudden enclosure makes Jyn feel a little sick.

With a thud, the ship lands. She turns, automatically locking eyes with Cassian.

‘If they’ve come for … if it’s about me, then let me do the talking.’

She can’t read what he’s thinking, whether he takes this to mean she doesn’t trust him not to fuck it up or whether he’s wary of her betraying him.

His expression gives nothing away. ‘Okay.’

By silent agreement, they rise to leave the shuttle. Better to meet whoever’s out there on open ground. It’s taking the offense, she thinks – a strategy that only avoids being stupid by being unexpected.

The two of them descend the ramp slowly, facing different directions with their backs toward each other. At first she supposes the hangar to be empty, but then at the edge of her vision she sees Cassian stiffen. Without thinking, she turns round to aim in the same direction.

Three people are standing there, in front of a door that must lead to the rest of the ship. Two of them are armed and the third stands slightly in front. Jyn feels her mouth falling open. They aren’t bounty-hunters. And they aren’t Imperial either.

They’re rebels.

For a second both sides just stare at each other. She has to make a conscious effort to prevent her hackles from rising; it’s her default response to seeing Alliance uniforms. The rebels themselves don’t seem too impressed by her either; they’re focusing on her companion.

The leader, a red-haired woman in her forties, steps forward and salutes. ‘Captain Andor.’

 _Captain._ That can’t be – but no, Cassian’s nodding in acknowledgement, she does mean him. How, in all their time together, has he failed to mention that he wasn’t any old rebel soldier but a _captain?_ ’

‘And you are?’ he asks, brisk and authoritarian and completely different to the person she’s spent the last few days with. But then, this is his element and these are his people.

The rebel identifies herself. Jyn only processes the word _sergeant._ Maybe it’s a good thing that Cassian holds a significant rank. If he’s taken seriously by the Alliance, she has a much better chance of getting her amnesty.

She’s still not listening, not until the rebels direct their attention towards her for the first time. Their eyes widen in recognition and the sergeant’s blaster snaps up to point at Jyn’s chest.

‘Erso,’ she says, her tone colder than Hoth.

Jyn’s about to respond and tell the sergeant exactly where she can put that sneer when Cassian interrupts: ‘You’re mistaken.’

‘Excuse me?’ Temporarily forgetting that she’s addressing a superior, the sergeant rounds on him.

‘This is not Jyn Erso,’ he says, firmly. ‘Though you would not be the first to make that mistake.’

‘Then who is she?’

‘My wife,’ Cassian says simply, closing the distance between Jyn and himself and sliding his hand into hers.

Well, fuck. Why would he say that? _Why the fuck would he say that?_        

‘Your wife,’ the sergeant repeats.

‘Lianna,’ he adds, squeezing Jyn’s hand. His palm is calloused, the skin dry and covered in scabs.

He’s holding her hand. He’s holding her and calling her his wife and it might be the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to her. No way are they selling this. She’s never going to live it down. She can imagine it already: walking into some sleazy bar at the back end of the galaxy and someone bringing up the time an Alliance officer pretended to be her husband.

She should just ask the sergeant to shoot her now; it’d be less painful.

‘I don’t recall you being married, Captain Andor.’

Here they go.

‘We’ve been separated for a few years.’ For a story this bogus, he’s committed. ‘I’ve only just found her again. I don’t usually have time to talk about my personal life.’

Slowly, the sergeant looks from him to Jyn. Her calculation process is obvious. She did recognise Jyn immediately, but Cassian outranks her and even if she doesn’t believe him at all she might decide he must have a good reason for lying.

‘All right, then,’ the sergeant says, putting her blaster in its holster and extending her hand to shake Jyn’s. Jyn returns the gesture mechanically, barely remembering to smile in time.

‘We’re on course for Yavin IV,’ the sergeant adds, addressing Cassian again. ‘Unless of course, you want to leave.’

He shakes his head. ‘We don’t know how far we’d get in that shuttle. You aren’t the only ones with tractor beams.’

‘You want to go to the sickbay then?’

‘Yes,’ Jyn says. Her voice sounds odd in a kind of dry way. She glances at Cassian, inviting him to disagree. ‘That sounds like a good idea.’

He doesn’t respond to her, but moves towards the sergeant expectantly. At the same time, he lets go of her hand and she can suddenly feel how embarrassingly sweaty her palm is.

They’re escorted through the ship by one of the sergeant’s deputies; a young man with buzzed black hair and a wispy moustache. He doesn’t seem old enough to be in a uniform. The Alliance must really be desperate.

The ship itself is quite old, there’s an alarming amount of rust in places and the engines are noisier than she’s used to. Yet equally it all seems to work and there appears to be sufficient crew for it, so all is not lost.

Jyn expects Wispy Moustache to clear off once they’re at the sickbay but he hangs around, insisting on helping. It would be annoying if his assistance weren’t necessary; she and Cassian need to focus on their own injuries instead of helping each other.

They all pull faces when she takes the bacta off her arm. The patch has been soaked by the storm and covered in dirt from her journeys through the forest, but the wound underneath looks even worse. Though it’s no longer raw and bleeding, it’s filled with pale yellow pus and there’s a distinct pinkish tinge to the skin surrounding it.

‘That’s infected,’ Wispy Moustache says, as if Jyn couldn’t have worked it out herself.

‘Yeah, thanks. You got more bacta?’

He hands her a patch and leaves her to it, a preferable arrangement for both of them.

Irritatingly, Cassian’s wound looks better, even if it’s more impressive. Probably some karmic reflection of how he strives for goodness – or just a result of the fact that it hasn’t had time to get dirty. For a few seconds her eyes linger on the way the gash extends down his muscled back, before remembering herself and returning to her bruises.

She’s stripped down to her undershirt again to expose her arms. Her left shoulder is turning a spectacular shade of purple and she suspects that the rest of her torso is similar. It certainly ought to be, from how much it hurts.

‘You’ve been making friends,’ Wispy Moustache remarks, sounding impressed.

Jyn just shrugs. She doesn’t really have anything to say in response. Thankfully, Cassian fills the gap with a question.

‘How much longer will the journey take?’

‘Couple of hours?’ Wispy Moustache finishes securing fresh bacta over Cassian’s wound and adds, ‘We have bunks just through there if you want to get some rest.’

‘We will,’ Jyn says. She can tell Cassian’s thinking the same thing. They might have got this far with the lie, but they’re going to need to corroborate stories before they land or they’re going to contradict each other.

That, and she needs to tell him what she thinks about this plan in the first place.

 

‘ _Wife?’_ Jyn asks, as soon as the door has closed behind them. ‘Where did that come from?’

‘I’m sorry. It was the first thing I could think of.’

‘Really? The first thing? I couldn’t have been, your cousin or something?’

‘You’re white,’ he argues, which, okay, yeah.

‘What about my amnesty deal? Telling people about my visions? Wasn’t that going to protect me?’

‘That would take too long to prove. You saw them, how they reacted to you. Do you really think they would sit down and listen?’

‘Then we should have had a better plan to start with.’

‘Well, we don’t.’ He exhales and some of the energy leaves him, making him seem smaller. ‘Whether it’s a good idea or not, it’s what we’ve told them. We have to stick with it now.’

‘I know. I just.’ She sighs then, too. ‘Do you really think they bought it?’

‘They seemed to.’

‘But you’ve been in the Rebellion for a while, right? Surely there must be somebody who’ll know it’s bullshit.’

‘Chirrut will know. But I don’t think he’ll tell anyone if we ask him not to.’

‘ _Married_. It sounds so…old.’

‘How old are you?’

‘Twenty-five. You?’

‘Twenty-seven. So, our backstory: we met six years ago and after four months got married?’

‘That isn’t very long.’

‘We were young,’ he says, mockingly serious. It’s almost enough to make her laugh.

‘Fine. So we rushed into it, lost each other in some battle and you thought I was dead so conveniently never mentioned me again?’

‘It sounds good.’ He sits on one of the bunks, testing it, and then lies back. ‘They’re comfortable. You should rest.’

She tries the bunk opposite. It’s not exactly luxury, but after a few nights without a bed of any kind it may as well be a feather mattress. She feels herself sink into it and stares up at the ceiling.

‘What should I know about you?’ she asks, after a pause. ‘Presumably we talked during our ten month affair.’

‘I was born on Fest. I’ve always been involved in the Rebellion in some way or another. And I’m a good cook. What about you?’

Somehow, it’s easier to speak now that they aren’t making eye contact. ‘Don’t you know the horror stories about Jyn Erso?’

‘Your parents worked for the Empire. They were scientists. They died. What happened then?’

Her father’s death was a hole, an absence, something that had happened when her back was turned. She still doesn’t know exactly why or how, only that Saw didn’t tell her and she had to find out by herself. She likes to think it was something noble, that her father died fighting the Empire, but it could have been anything. He could have been heroic or terrible or just average, she’s got no way of knowing.

Her mother’s death, she saw. She wasn’t supposed to be watching, but her mother wasn’t supposed to leave her either. She only has to think about it for a second to be ten again, and cold, and watching Lyra crumple into the grass. She hadn’t seen anybody die before and this was her mother.

When she speaks, her voice is flatter than it was before.

‘I did things. They’re not going to grill you for my employment history. I’m Lianna now anyway. Daughter to ordinary people from Naboo who were killed by stormtroopers.’

‘Are you always an orphan?’

‘It’s easier.’

‘What does Lianna do for a living?’

‘Smuggler. Still illegal but more apolitical.’

‘All right.’

There’s more to discuss, they shouldn’t leave it there, but she cannot summon the energy to fabricate details of their fake relationship. And she was having trouble getting her head around their alliance.

She closes her eyes, the exhaustion of the last few days hitting her all at once. Even though it made him hostile, she’d felt a kind of relief when Cassian discovered who she was. It’s not that she struggles with fake identities – God knows she’s had enough of them – only that they can get kind of wearing. She just becoming able to be Jyn again and now she has to be somebody else.

And not just anybody else. Someone with a husband. Someone who married a captain of the Alliance. Someone who’s in love with _Cassian._ It makes her brain hurt if she thinks too hard about it.

‘Wake me up when we’re there,’ she mumbles, curling onto the side that hurts less and falling asleep before he responds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is a bit late! It feels slightly ironic, given that this chapter is half the length of the previous ones, but it's been a very busy week. 
> 
> I'm going to aim to keep to this update schedule, but I should add that my university term starts again on Monday (the 30th) and once I have actual work to do I may not be able to get as much writing done.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who's commented, bookmarked and left kudos - you're all fantastic!
> 
> If the next update is late or you want to come and chat, you can find me on tumblr [here](http://www.betweentheheavesofstorm.tumblr.com). (For fic updates, search either the fic name or my 'writer things' tag)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Welcome to Yavin IV,’ Cassian says, quietly, so that only she hears it.

Jyn opens her eyes to see Cassian standing there, his hand on her shoulder shaking her awake. She sits up quickly, immediately alert. It says a lot about how accustomed she is to him that her first move isn’t to strike out. Other people to wake her up have been less fortunate.

‘We’re preparing to land,’ he says, stepping away from her bunk to give her space. ‘I thought you’d want to know.’

‘Yeah. Thanks.’ While she’s clearly been asleep, she’s not feeling all too rested. Her body’s too heavy when she sits up; emphatically imparting the message that it wants nothing more to sink back onto the bunk and stay there for a fortnight.

She gets to her feet and is suddenly overwhelmed as the blood rushes to her head, making her dizzy. The world slides out of focus and she staggers, losing her balance. For a moment she can’t see anything, and then she’s standing a few feet away from the bunk, leaning on Cassian for support.

‘Sorry,’ she mutters, moving backwards to take her own weight.

‘Vision?’ he asks, almost eagerly. That’s going to be a fun additional thing to contend with; he’ll be looking forward to every vision she has.

‘No. Just a head rush.’ She half expects him to make some kind of joke about the hardened bounty-hunter defeated by gravity, but of course sarcasm isn’t his style. ‘How close are we?’

‘What?’

‘To Yavin IV. You said we were landing?’

‘Yes. Shortly.’

‘OK.’ She leaves the room without waiting for a response, partly because she can’t think of anything to say and partly because she’s worried Cassian doesn’t either and he might start chatting. Almost as soon as she’s out of the door she remembers that she has no idea where she’s going, but walks on undeterred.

Not to be left behind, he catches up with her after a couple of paces.

‘We’re married, we would walk together.’

‘That was six years ago,’ she shoots back. ‘It makes sense that we’ve grown apart.’

He sighs, but doesn’t challenge the point. If they’re going to resort to using their fictitious history to win arguments, so be it.

Neither of them are familiar with the layout of the ship, so it takes a few wrong turns before they get to the flight deck. He had only just woken her in time; the ship is already quite low, skimming over a wooded landscape. It’s different enough from the moon not to make Jyn uncomfortable; the trees are smaller here and there are no mountains in sight.

‘Welcome to Yavin IV,’ Cassian says, quietly, so that only she hears it.

‘It’s not horrible,’ she allows. She watches the trees are replaced by the edge of a concrete landing pad, which turns into the entrance of a hangar. It hits her that this is really happening, once she steps off the ship and introduces herself as Lianna Andor there really is no going back. The sergeant has already radioed in to confirm she and Cassian are onboard.

The landing, while smooth, is not without creaks as the ship makes its age known. It’s a wonder it doesn’t crumble around them from the amount of noise.

‘Captain Andor.’ The sergeant spots them and makes her way over, adding, ‘Mrs. Andor.’

Jyn nods in acknowledgement. She never thought she’d live to be a _Mrs._ anything. And if she had survived that long, she’s still not certain marriage would ever become a factor.

‘I hope you rested,’ the sergeant adds to Cassian. ‘I imagine the Senators will want to speak with you. Perhaps Mrs. Andor could report to the medcenter while you do so. I’m told her injuries have become infected.’

Jyn nods. However annoying the Alliance medical droids are bound to be, she can’t ignore the state her body’s in. Plus, depending on how good the security is, she can steal some painkillers for the inevitable next time.

Cassian is less enthusiastic. ‘I would like to accompany Lianna.’

Is this part of the romance charade? He better not be taking their fake relationship into sickeningly co-dependent never-goes-anywhere-without-the-other territory.

On the other hand, he might be thinking about how the combination of the Alliance and her short fuse is bound to be disastrous. If he’s there, the chances of her stabbing someone are admittedly lower.

‘We were only reunited a few days ago,’ he adds, apparently forgetting that he outranks the sergeant and really doesn’t have to make excuses. He’s good at it, though – Jyn’s almost feeling bad for him and _she’s_ the fake wife. She’s going to have to step up her game or everyone is going to think she’s an unfeeling bitch.

‘Of course. I’ll arrange for you to have a later audience.’

‘Thank you,’ he says, and then to Jyn, ‘how are you feeling?

Right, the couple thing. The friendly thing, where she’s used to him asking this.

‘All right. Medcenter sounds good, though.’

She is kind of relieved that he stays with her as they exit the ship and make their way through the hangar. As they’re walking, it occurs to her that they’ll probably never see the Imperial shuttle again. The Alliance is sure to think of a good use for it and somebody of Cassian’s status is bound to have his own ship. She’s not attached to the shuttle, it was just that she’d become accustomed to it. It was an ugly and Imperial and yet in a way it had been theirs. If she and Cassian can ever be classed together as a ‘they’.

The two of them are certainly attracting a lot of attention. People keep waving at Cassian and staring at her. This must be the downside of having a captain as your fake husband, everyone knows who he is.

‘Is it always this busy?’ she asks, as they pick their way through a group of pilots arguing about the best way to repair an X-wing.

‘Not always,’ he allows, smiling slightly at the question. Good to know that the hubbub is amusing to someone.

They may as well have completed a tour of the base by the time they get to the medcenter. The sergeant and the other troops have peeled off, so it’s just the two of them. She hangs back while Cassian speaks to a medical droid, checking the place out. It seems pretty well-equipped and thankfully is a lot emptier than the rest of the facility.

From there they’re escorted into a separate room, a droid accompanying them. She peels off the bacta patch. It’s becoming quite an attraction; the number of times she’s shown it off. The droid hums in a disconcerting way when it sees the infection and then sets to work. That is the comforting thing about a lot of medical droids; they’re less inclined to waste time on pep talk than human medics.

With little else to do, she and Cassian watch each other. Despite being a mess, he still fits in oddly well. What’s it going to be like, now he’s in his comfort zone and she’s so far out of hers?

Still looking at her, he raises his eyebrows slightly as if to ask, _you good?_

She nods. It’s a yes, but not an emphatic one. He seems to get it, which is nice. Facial expressions aren’t always the best way to communicate nuances.

The droid has just about finished when the door of the room bursts open and a young man hurries in. From his orange jumpsuit and the pair of goggles resting on his forehead, she assumes he’s a pilot.

‘Cassian!’ he exclaims, rushing forward and then stopping short when he sees Jyn. ‘Is that – people are saying you’re married?’

‘Yes,’ Cassian says, quite calmly.

She thinks the pilot might be about to implode. His jaw drops and for a few seconds his mouth opens and closes without any sound coming out.

‘Bodhi,’ Cassian says, taking advantage of the silence, ‘this is my wife, Lianna.’

Bodhi regains the power of speech. ‘So you’re not kidding? This isn’t some joke?’

‘No.’ Cassian goes into the agreed story, keeping it brief. It’s already getting boring to listen to, and she suspects they’re going to be telling it for a while yet. Bodhi listens with wide-eyed astonishment. He lets Cassian finish without interrupting. Then, his attention swivels over to Jyn.

‘You _married_ him?’

She smiles. It’s the sort of thing you’re meant to smile at. ‘Yes.’

‘Wow. I can’t imagine – wow.’

‘Bodhi used to be an Imperial pilot,’ Cassian says, in an attempt to move on. ‘He defected a year ago.’

‘I should have done it sooner,’ Bodhi says. He’s still talking very fast, with an almost manic energy. Jyn finds herself warming to him, despite herself.

He’s not the only one to react. Five minutes later, two more of Cassian’s friends appear. It’s turning into quite the reunion; she hadn’t expected him to have so much of a social circle.

Baze and Chirrut are easily the oddest couple she’s ever met. They don’t seem to hold rank within the Alliance – Cassian describes them as ‘friends to the Resistance’. Chirrut explains further, identifying himself as one of the Guardians of the Whills and Baze as his husband.

‘Long suffering,’ Baze adds, which just makes Chirrut smile.

Jyn remembers Cassian saying that somebody called Chirrut would know the relationship is fake. Whether he does or not, he keeps his mouth shut about it, while Baze joins Bodhi in incredulity.

‘Never thought Mr. Mission First would let something like marriage into his life,’ he says, friendly and gruff at the same time.

‘You can talk.’ Since more people have entered, Cassian’s vacated his chair and has joined Jyn, sitting on the bed. It has the dual purpose of creating more space and making them look closer.

‘She is similar to you,’ Chirrut remarks. Given that he’s blind and has known Jyn for a few minutes, it’s unclear what he’s basing this judgement off.

‘Not too similar, I hope,’ she says. Baze chuckles, but she can feel Cassian’s weight shift, just a little, beside her.

Following Bodhi’s example, they don’t stay for long. Though they’re as nicer than she expects rebels to be, it’s still a relief when they leave. She’s already looking forward to when they’re able to tell the leaders of the Resistance about her visions, putting an end to the pretense.

She’s not out of the woods yet, though. The last of their visitors is decidedly unenthusiastic about the situation. A tall, reprogrammed Imperial droid, K-2SO has no time for tact.

‘You’re married,’ he says, in a very matter-of-fact voice, swiveling his head down to look at them.

‘Yes,’ Jyn says. The words no longer feel like they mean anything, she’s repeated them so many times.

‘That’s impossible.’

‘K,’ Cassian says patiently, ‘it’s true.’

‘It doesn’t match your behavioral patterns,’ the droid responds. ‘You socialize rarely and have few emotional bonds.’

Jyn is suddenly really glad that none of her friends are this combination of blunt and analytical. Of course, that comes from having no friends.

‘Add the fact that I’ve known you for two years and you’ve never mentioned a wife,’ K2 continues, ‘and I reach the conclusion that she is an imposter.’

‘I thought she was dead, K. That’s why I never – why I couldn’t talk about her.’

‘You would have told me.’

‘It’s a human thing, K.’

‘We were very different people, when we met,’ Jyn says, figuring she should make some contribution. ‘It was a long time ago.’

‘You wouldn’t marry a smuggler,’ K2 argues.

‘She wasn’t a smuggler then.’

‘Only technically,’ Jyn says, because what’s the point of being his wife if she can’t give him a hard time?

K2 looks very much like he wants to argue, but isn’t afforded the chance. A lieutenant pops in and says that Cassian’s wanted for debriefing.

‘Will you be all right here?’ he asks, getting up.

‘Yeah.’ She can’t exactly ask him to stay without being annoyingly clingy. Besides, she’s going to have to get used to being in Resistance HQ without stabbing anyone.

‘K2 can look out for you,’ he says, preparing to follow the lieutenant. As he passes the droid, he mutters something that sounds a lot like _behave yourself._

The door swings shut behind them.

‘How long have you known Cassian?’ Jyn asks, figuring it’s best to try and steer the conversation if she can.

K2 ignores the question completely. ‘Do you love him?’

‘What?’

‘Do you love Cassian?’

‘Of course. I married him.’ She needs to get better at this. It would probably help if she’d ever actually been in a proper romantic relationship, then she’d know what to say. ‘He’s… I’d never met anybody like him.’ That, at least, is true.

‘I don’t think he loves you.’

‘Why not?’ Should she be hurt, or so confident in their marriage that she brushes it off?

‘He would have spoken about you.’

Oh good, he only means it in a jealous way. What do you say to a droid when their feelings have been hurt?

‘And he’s always made it very clear that he considers romance to be a useless distraction.’

‘People do funny things when they’re upset,’ she says. ‘I’ve missed him, too.’

‘What did you miss about him?’

Fuck.

‘He understands me,’ she tries. Chirrut did say they were similar, and so far Cassian hasn’t been bad at deciphering her mood. ‘And he’s so dedicated. He really believes in what he does.’

‘But you decided not to reproduce?’

The question is so unexpected that she snorts, and manages to turn it into a cough.

‘No,’ she manages, suppressing laughter, ‘we didn’t. I mean we did decide that. No reproduction.’

‘You find it funny.’

‘I wasn’t expecting it.’

‘Why not? If you’re married, surely questions regarding offspring are quite natural.’

‘There’s a war happening. We never really had time to think about that and then he was gone.’

‘I see.’ K2 pauses. ‘Shall I show you to his quarters?’

‘ _His_ quarters?’

‘As I understand it, it is customary for husbands and wives to share the same room.’

So there’s another thing they’re going to have to deal with, along with invasive questions about why they haven’t had children.

‘Right, yes.’ They’ve been sharing a small ship for the past few days; they’ll be able to negotiate space in a room. And if it means she can get away from K2 for a bit, all the better.

The medical droid signs her off, though it warns her not to exert herself and let her body heal. K2 leads her through a maze of identical corridors, occasionally pointing out features. He doesn’t say anything that warrants a response, which is a relief. She’s all out of energy for talking to people.

‘Here we are,’ he says ten minutes later, stopping in front of a numbered grey door. ‘I will leave you now.’

‘Thank you.’ The door isn’t locked, she’s able to push it open. Inside is a small room – more of a cube really, with a little refresher attached. The en-suite must be a benefit of being a captain. The design is very much a utilitarian one: white walls and ceiling, grey wardrobe and bedspread. Yet at the same time, it’s very obviously lived-in. A pair of boots is lying abandoned in the middle of the floor and there are some clothes strewn across the end of the bed.

She stops, just inside the door, to take it all in. It’s unclear whether she’s just meant to sit and wait for Cassian. She’s got no idea how long he’ll be, though, and she’s never been the type for sitting and waiting.

Sleep is always an option. It’s got to the stage where she can’t remember the last time she wasn’t tired and the appeal of lying on a real mattress is increasing the more she thinks about it. It would be incredibly weird for Cassian to come in and find her asleep in his bed, but then this whole thing is so weird she can’t tell whether that would be crossing a line or not. If she’s having to answer questions about whether the two of them are _reproducing_ or not then having a nap when he’s not around is barely scandalous.

Or she could use the shower. In fact, that might be a better idea. Aside from the section of her arm that’s been cleaned several times, her skin feels like it’s coated in layers of grime. Her hair could offer a new definition of what greasiness is and even though nobody’s mentioned it, she probably smells.

She doesn’t take long to make up her mind. It’s a small refresher, designed in the same style as the bedroom. There’s a small grey cupboard with spare towels in it and a square shower opposite the toilet. Locking the door behind her, she peels off her clothes and steps into the shower.

The first jet of water is freezing. She flinches, stepping out of the stream and rechecking the temperature dial. You don’t get this problem with sonic showers, she thinks, putting her hand in the stream of water to see if it’s warm enough.

It does heat up quickly; a minute later she’s back underneath it. It’s a beautiful feeling, the hot water pouring over her shoulders and down her body, rinsing the dirt right off her skin. The shower facilities at the Imperial prison had been not great to say the least. She could get used to this.

For a good five minutes she stands there without making any move to start washing. She’s keeping her wounded arm dry; the other little grazes are all stinging. It’s a good kind of sting, though, and if there’s any grit in them this is bound to get rid of it. Perhaps the rebels know what they’re doing, if this is the kind of water pressure they have access to.

When at last she’s done, she picks a towel out of a drawer. The only clothes she has are the ones she’s left on the floor. The longer she stares at them, the grimier they seem. She can’t bring herself to put them back on and revert to her previous state.

Cassian probably has some spare clothes that she could borrow. Once again, it’s an invasion of his personal space, and once again she doesn’t care too much. What the hell, it’s not like he’s going to be able to be that angry; he’s still got to pretend to be the loving husband.

She leaves the refresher with the towel wrapped round her body, padding across the floor barefoot to his wardrobe. As she’d hoped, it’s full of clothes folded with military precision. Jyn picks a dark green cotton shirt and matching trousers, the smallest ones she can find. Once she puts them on it’s clear they’re still too big, hanging loosely off her body, but they’re clean and comfortable and somehow they make it seem like everything might be all right.

She’s gathering her old clothes off the floor of the refresher when the outer door opens and Cassian comes through it. He’s walking quite quickly, but stops short when he sees her.

‘Sorry,’ she says quickly. ‘K2 said we’d be sharing a room. I guess we should have seen it coming.’

‘You’re wearing my clothes,’ he says, blankly.

She does look odd in his things; she can understand why he’s staring.

‘Yeah. I didn’t have anything clean. I hope that’s okay.’

‘It’s fine.’ He drags his eyes upward to her face. ‘I’ll make sure you get some things of your own.’

‘Thanks. I also borrowed a towel.’

‘Again, fine. Did K2 behave himself?’

‘More or less. He thinks you’re faking it or have fallen out of love with me or something.’ She moves across to sit on the foot of the bed. ‘Maybe you got put off by all the smuggling I’ve done since we last met.’

‘He’s just jealous I didn’t tell him.’

‘He also wanted to know,’ she says, ‘why we haven’t had kids.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m sorry. He can be – he doesn’t understand a lot of human things.’

‘I told him it was the war. And it generally not being a priority. If he asks you.’

‘I shouldn’t have left you with him.’

‘It’s fine. I mean, those are the sort of questions people are going to ask, right?’ And then, because there’s no way she can pretend not to be tired anymore, ‘Look, I really want to sleep, so I’m going to hijack your bed if that’s all right.’

‘I’ll take the floor.’

That’s ridiculous when it’s his room, but now she’s got an actual mattress she’s not going to give it up. ‘Okay, but just for today. We can take it in turns after that.’

‘All right.’

She passes one of his pillows over and he rolls a blanket out. He turns off the light and they both lie down, staring up at the ceiling they can’t make out.

‘Goodnight, Jyn.’

It’s risky for him to say her name, even when they’re meant to be alone. She can’t afford to be discovered, not before she’s earned her place here. He ought to call her Lianna. But then, he works in intelligence. He can figure that out for himself.

‘Goodnight, Cassian.’  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I am uploading at 4am, this isn't as late as I thought it would be, so go me.
> 
> This week has been very busy and that's when I don't have any assigned work yet, so my update schedule for the next few chapters should be...interesting. 
> 
> I've rejigged my outline a little, but at the moment it's still looking like it should be around 14 chapters in total. That's not definite (if you've read any of my stuff before you'll know it never is) but I'll let you know if it changes drastically from that.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Anyway,’ he says. ‘You and Cassian. Going to be like a husband-and-wife hit squad?’

Jyn had been more comfortable on the ship.

The realization comes in the middle of the night, when she’s lying awake on the too-soft mattress. Not _literally_ more comfortable; the bench had accentuated her existing aches and given her a handful more. Yet in some twisted way it had seemed secure. Now, every time she wakes, she takes a heartbeat to remember where she is. There had been something pleasant about the regular hum of an engine; this building is too still and silent.

Meanwhile, Cassian manages to sleep soundly. You’d think the person in the bed would get a better night’s rest than the person on the floor, but apparently not. She lies there, listening to his regular breaths. Though he hasn’t been outwardly enthusiastic, he must be happy to be back. This is his room full of his things, after all. From an outward perspective, that would make her his as well.

As always when she’s trying to sleep, her mind keeps sliding back to one place. Even when she follows the thought through, it still pops up.

She’s never been this reliant on another person before.

Being undercover is doable. It’s not easy, but she’s got good at it – responding to fake names, adopting idiosyncrasies, whatever she needs to become someone else. At times, she’s been so preoccupied with particular roles that they stay with her even when she’s by herself. (What’s the harm, when it means she doesn’t slip up and she’s not crazy about her personality anyway?)

This, though. This is different. Cassian, who she once needed to fly the ship, she now needs to lie for her. Repeatedly and convincingly. It’s a bigger ask.

When she looks at it optimistically, the situation looks fine. He’s demonstrated that he keeps his word; he saved her first, back before there were ulterior motives in view. He’s committed to the Rebellion and she’s a valuable asset. Even if – and she reckons it is only an _if_ – he personally despises her, he’d be an idiot to throw this away.

On the other hand, it’s always possible that things can change. Were circumstances to shift, he could realise she’s too much effort. It’s not even as if she’s a regular civilian and so worth helping out of the goodness of his heart. She’s either immensely valuable or a huge liability, and there is no way that he wouldn’t see that.

 _I saved his life_ , she thinks, but even that doesn’t count for much. She’s using him as much as he’s using her and even if they weren’t, she was still repaying a debt. The Alliance is hardly going to care about that, not when so many of her previous jobs have impeded them.

Plus now she doesn’t have the comfort of knowing they won’t kill her. That certainty was the one benefit of the vision and it’s gone. She could die at any time at any place, as long as she’s run through that courtyard first.

It could even be Cassian who shoots her. She smiles to herself, in the dark. That would be a new level of ironic, when she’s staying with him purely to survive. Yet the thought isn’t serious; something in her gut knows it wouldn’t happen. Cassian might be someone who does terrible things in the name of the Resistance, but he wouldn’t stoop that low, not after she’s bandaged his wounds and slept in his bed. He’s not her.

She rolls over onto her side. Whatever happens in the future, tomorrow they’ve got to keep up their image and for that she’s going to need energy. She can still hear Cassian’s breaths, slow and rhythmic, and tries to mirror them. It’s a trick she’s used before, but doesn’t get to do very often as she’s so rarely sharing with someone so calm. It does help, her body begins to relax and her worries retreat a little.

Pilot. Ally. Husband. Sleep machine. He does have his uses.

 

Out of all the places in the galaxy Jyn has been, an Alliance canteen is still a first. Even though they’re in the middle of the war, the vibe is more relaxed than she’d expected. That might also be because not everyone follows Cassian’s example of being a hundred and ten percent committed twenty-four seven and actually takes time for themselves.

Making a conscious effort to walk in step, they make their way to the food station. She takes as little time as possible, taking things almost at random and putting them on her tray. The effort turns out to be pointless as Cassian is taking his time with selecting his breakfast. It would be too petty to tell him to hurry, so she stands holding her tray and looks at the floor.

‘I’ve missed breakfast,’ he says, noticing her disinterest.

‘I’m sure you would.’ To be fair, there’s a greater range of options than she’s had for a while. Meals over the last few days have been erratic at best and prison food, if regular, was never exciting.

When he’s finally finished, he finds a way through the grid of tables to one in the far corner. She’d been hoping they could find an empty one, but no, Bodhi is halfway through his breakfast and K2 is sitting next to him doing nothing.

‘Morning.’ Cassian puts his tray down opposite them.

‘Morning.’ Bodhi’s in a cheerful mood. He spears part of a fried egg, eats it, and looks up at Jyn. ‘You can sit down.’

‘I was going to.’ It takes quite an effort not to slam her tray down. Loving wife, she reminds herself. Lianna is happy to be here.

‘Good morning,’ K2 says, tilting his head to one side and adding, ‘is it common for couples to share clothing?’

‘She doesn’t have anything of her own here,’ Cassian explains, unruffled. Neither of them could be bothered to find her anything before breakfast, so he’d given her a fresh set of his things. Everything is wildly too big; she’s had to cinch the trousers in at the waist with a belt and the shirt billows out, hanging in baggy folds off her shoulders.

Jyn doesn’t trust herself not to say something stupid, so fixes her attention on her tray. It’s a strange breakfast that she’s cobbled together; everything clashes. It only looks like a meal if you squint.

‘Trying everything?’ Bodhi asks, following the line of her gaze.

‘I wasn’t really thinking,’ she admits, starting some of the beans at the edge of her plate. ‘Other things on my mind.’

‘Where are Chirrut and Baze?’ Cassian asks. She can’t tell whether he’s genuinely curious or trying to deflect attention away from her. Either way, she’s grateful.

‘They have gone to Jedha,’ K2 says.

‘Chirrut’s still recovering from an injury, so they’re not cleared for combat yet,’ Bodhi says, through a mouthful of eggs. ‘They’re going as guides. And speaking of injuries, how are you guys doing?’

‘All right,’ Cassian says, with a sideways glance at Jyn. He does look better, she realises. He’d disappeared into the refresher that morning and emerged clean-shaven and in new clothes. If you saw him now it would be easier to believe he’s a captain, even if the lack of stubble is throwing her off. His jaw looks empty without it.

Bodhi finishes his plate and pushes it away a few inches. ‘So now that you’re both here, are you going to be doing missions together?’

‘No,’ says Cassian, at the same time as Jyn’s ‘yes’.

Temporarily forgetting about the others, he stares at her. ‘You’re not part of the Resistance.’

‘Yeah, but you need everyone you’ve got.’

‘You’re injured.’

‘So are you.’

He reaches out, covering her right hand with his left. The scabs on his palm are nearly gone. She looks down at their hands, and then up at him.

‘I’ve only just found you again,’ he says, in what can only be described as an aggressive stage whisper.

‘Okay,’ Bodhi clears his throat. ‘I’m going to leave you guys to it – ’

‘No, stay,’ Jyn says quickly. If he’s here, any arguments they have will need to be filtered through their relationship. The longer she has before Cassian confronts her about this change of heart, the more she can build up her case.

Reluctantly, he stays put.

‘We’ll talk about this later,’ Cassian says, recognizing the tactic for what it is.

‘It would be a bad idea for Lianna to serve in the Resistance,’ K2 interjects, unaware that the discussion is closed. ‘She has not been formally trained.’

‘Physically, she’s capable,’ Cassian says, before Jyn can tell him where to put his formal training. ‘How have you been, K?’

‘Bored. Only Bodhi would go on missions with me and he’s more interested in X-wings. I understand why my counterparts dislike the Rebellion; your ships do not accommodate us.’

Bodhi shrugs, apologetic. ‘I want to expand my skill set. Someone said you flew an Imperial shuttle out of jail?’

‘Yes. Never doing that again.’ And they’re off talking about different motor systems and velocity calculation and a whole load of stuff Jyn doesn’t understand. She focuses instead on her breakfast, which up until now she’s been making herself eat without thinking too much about it. Now, staring at the mess on her plate, she can’t bring herself to eat any more.

‘ Cassian,’ K2 says, cutting through the ship discussion, ‘why did you sleep on the floor?’

There’s a moment’s pause.

‘Yeah, I’m going.’ Bodhi stands up, and this time she doesn’t try to stop him. In fact, following suit and fleeing the scene sounds like a good idea.

‘I’ll go too.’ It wasn’t a good breakfast, anyway. She picks up her tray and rises. ‘See you later.’

‘Uh, okay.’ Bodhi seems a bit taken aback, but is either too polite or too awkward to object.

As they walk away, she can hear Cassian begin an explanation as to why people who have been separated don’t go straight for spooning. At least, she assumes that’s where he’s heading with it, the canteen is too loud for her to hear the rest.

‘What was it like working for the Empire?’ she asks, as they return the trays and leave the canteen. Maybe Lianna is nosy.

‘Bad but also boring,’ he says. ‘Don’t get me wrong, it was terrifying too. Always stormtroopers everywhere and if you do anything suspicious they shoot first and ask questions later.’

‘But boring?’

‘Right. So when you think of the Empire, it’s like, huge and star destroyers and Darth Vader. You forget how many tiny parts of it there are. I was a cargo pilot. It didn’t feel like I was doing anything bad, you know? Just trying to survive.’ He stops. There’s more to the story, but she doesn’t push it.

‘Anyway,’ he says. ‘You and Cassian. Going to be like a husband-and-wife hit squad?’

‘I’m glad you know it’s an argument I’ll win.’

‘He’s always softer than he lets on. But you know that.’

Oh, this could be good. Five years is quite a while, she can use this to explain why some things are still unfamiliar.

Sighing, she begins, ‘I wonder if I do, though. It’s been so long – I worry that we’ve changed.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m not great at talking about my feelings,’ she warns. ‘That’s part of it, as well, I guess. Being apart, we’ve learned not to need people.’

‘I don’t think that’s true. Not that it’s my business, but Cassian does need you. He’s one of those types who’ll never let himself be helped, you know?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I think before I defected, the only person he hung out with was K2. He’s too focused. Maybe you can get him to slow down. Take some time for himself.’

‘I’ll try. If I can.’

‘And um, I know you don’t know anyone, so if you want someone to talk to who isn’t him, I’m around – ’

‘Thanks.’ He’s a sweet guy. It’s difficult to imagine him defecting from the Empire. But then, everyone has hidden depths nowadays.

He pauses. She hasn’t paid attention to where they were going; they’ve ended up by a hangar. Right. ‘Cause he’s a pilot and is probably needed to fly a ship or fix one. That being his job.

‘I wouldn’t worry too much about the two of you,’ he says. ‘He clearly cares a lot about you. I’m sure you’ll find your feet.’

‘Thanks,’ Jyn repeats.

Bodhi disappears through the door. She turns around and starts back down the corridor in the direction they came in. She can’t remember the exact route, but the thought doesn’t trouble her. She doesn’t want to go back to the canteen with Cassian and K2 anyway. It’s as good a time as any to explore the base.

She comes across an empty briefing room and on an impulse, enters. It’s empty, but has clearly been in recent use. Half the chairs are pulled out and a holographic map is still blinking over one of the consoles. She takes a chair at one end, propping her feet up on the nearest table.

However unpleasant other aspects of breakfast were, at least she’s sure they’ve convinced Bodhi and K-2SO. And if they’re Cassian’s closest friends then, well, this could be easier than she thought.

It would be easier still if her automatic response wasn’t still to disagree with him. She’s going to have to work on that. She’ll presumably be here for a while and if they don’t manage to start working out their differences people might get suspicious.

The door swings open, taking her by surprise. She swings her legs off the table, but a moment later is relieved to see that it’s not some officer arriving for a meeting. Rather, it’s a blond teenage boy in a sand-coloured poncho bearing a bewildered expression.

(Okay, _teenager_ is a bit harsh. He could be twenty, she supposes.)

‘Hi,’ he says, catching sight of her. ‘Sorry, I think I’m lost.’

‘Oh. Me too. I know we’re near a hangar, but that’s it.’

‘I’m Luke,’ he says, still hovering in the doorway.

‘Lianna. Good to meet you.’

‘Are you a soldier?’

‘No. Just married to one. What about you?’

‘It’s complicated,’ he sighs, stepping further inside the room and leaning against the wall next to the door. ‘Discovered I had a sister and a whole lot of other stuff.’

‘It sounds complicated.’

‘Yeah.’

‘What were you trying to find?’

‘Another meeting room.’ He shifts. ‘I should go. I’m late and I have no idea where it is.’

‘Good luck,’ she calls after him. He waves goodbye and departs, back into the corridor.

How do you _discover_ you have a sister? She should have asked him that. Not that she should really question unexpected reunions, given her cover story. If Lianna can find her long-lost husband, presumably Luke can gain a sibling.

Jyn stays in the briefing room for a couple of hours. It’s a useless space, but also the first time she’s had any real privacy for…God knows how long. She’d more or less had her cell to herself, but when you’re in prison with thousands of other inmates that doesn’t really count.

She’s been bored for about thirty minutes when the door opens again and Cassian walks through it.

‘Oh,’ she says. ‘Hi.’

‘Have you been here all this time?’ He marches up to her, just stopping short of pulling her to her feet.

‘Yeah.’

‘I’ve been looking everywhere. Bodhi didn’t know what happened to you.’

‘I did see a guy called Luke,’ she offers. ‘Young. Blond. Lost.’

‘Luke _Skywalker?’_

‘I don’t know. He was looking for his sister.’

‘That would be the princess.’

Huh. Maybe she should think twice about the whole discovering family thing.

‘Come on,’ Cassian jerks his head towards the door. ‘I need to talk to you, but here isn’t the right place.’

‘Fine.’

She keeps an eye out as they walk, mentally making note of the route. Getting lost is fine when it’s her intention, but she’s got too much dignity to want to imitate Luke. Cassian doesn’t say a word until they’re back in his room.

‘You can’t just wander off like that,’ he says, closing the door behind them. ‘For one thing, it makes me look bad when I don’t know where you are. Senator Mothma wanted to speak to you, I had to say you were still resting.’

‘I’m sure they’ll understand.’

‘And what if someone recognised you? Your story relies on the fact that people know and trust me. Your hologram’s all over the galaxy, it’s more than possible.’

‘Nobody did.’

‘They _could have_. You claim to be good at surviving and then you pull stunts like this?’

‘I needed some headspace, okay? I’m not the most social person.’

‘That’s fine, but _you have to tell me._ ’

‘All right. Sure.’

‘And earlier. What was that? You hate the Rebellion and suddenly you want to go on missions?’

‘It would give me something to do. I don’t like sitting around.’

‘You’d be a hazard.’

‘Like I was when I saved your life?’

‘They’ve never give you clearance.’

‘What about Chirrut and Baze? Couldn’t I be like them?’

‘That’s different. They proved themselves loyal.’

‘But I haven’t? That sounds fair when I’m completely reliant on you.’

‘No.’

‘What, you _do_ trust me? Good to know.’

‘It isn’t about trust,’ he says. ‘I believe that you do want immunity. But you’d get hurt if you went on a mission now.’

‘Are you serious? You think I can’t handle it?’

‘All you’ve done for the past week is fight,’ he retorts. ‘Am I crazy for thinking you should rest? When you’ve healed up, maybe then. But right now I outrank you and I’m saying you have to stay put.’

Of course. She’s a little bruised and so that eliminates her abilities entirely. It’s a miracle she’s made it this far in such a violent profession.

Too quickly for him to see coming, she slams him into the nearest wall, her forearm resting against the base of his neck. She’s so close that she can feel his breath.

‘I did not live this long by _resting_ ,’ she snaps.

‘I know,’ he says, weakly. ‘I just don’t want anything to happen to you, okay? With you, we could actually win this. Also if you remember, my back isn’t in the best shape, so – ’

‘Right.’ She’d forgotten about that wound. She moves to release him and hears a familiar and already annoying voice.

‘Well, you seem to be overcoming your estrangement.’

‘K2,’ Cassian sighs, letting his head fall back against the wall.

‘Don’t mind me,’ K2 says, already backing away. ‘I have no desire to witness your intimacy.’

He retreats through the door and closes it behind him.

‘I won’t go on missions either,’ Cassian says, into the ensuing silence. She’s still standing extremely close, so she steps back till the distance between them is neutral enough not to be mistaken for an embrace.

‘What?’

‘Until you – _we_ – are both healed, I won’t take any missions. That better?’

Bodhi placed his bets too early. ‘Fine.’

He rubs the spot on his collarbone where her arm had dug in. ‘And we should have rules.’

‘Rules?’

‘About touching. When, say, I have to hold your hand so that we seem close, is that be okay?’

‘Sure. Whatever.’

‘I don’t want to invade your boundaries.’

‘If I thought you were going to molest me, I wouldn’t have slept in your bed.’

‘That’s not what I mean. Just because it’s not real doesn’t mean it still can’t be uncomfortable.’

‘I’ve done a lot of things to maintain a cover. So I’m not going to get mad at you if you kiss me or something. If that’s what you mean.’ Her nonchalance is almost aggressive, but it doesn’t stop the topic from being awkward.

‘It may not come to that,’ he says, but not with complete conviction.

‘But if it does, we’re fine. You’re not going to be the worst person I’ve kissed.’

‘Likewise. You want to get lunch?’

‘Yes,’ she says, relieved at the prospect of escaping this room and this conversation.

The walk to the canteen is slightly better than the one to his room, only slightly overshadowed by what they’ve just said. She oughtn’t to be surprised that he’s being considerate, it’s exactly the sort of thing he’d think to flag up to talk about and she wouldn’t.

Just outside the canteen, he offers her his hand. She takes it, noting that the contact is already familiar. Something to note in the fucked up story that is her life: this is the most considerate _anybody_ has ever been about touching her, and this isn’t even real.

(She hasn’t had traumatic experiences or anything. If her blaster doesn’t stop anyone from trying anything, her fists are more than capable of getting the message across. It’s more that the people she picks aren’t fussed about niceties, which is usually why she picks them. Cassian would never have made the cut. Not because he’s not attractive – he is, she won’t argue against that – but because he would never be interested in hooking up in engine rooms.)

What also occurs to her, as she lets go of his hand to choose her meal, is that he now holds the record for the person (excluding her parents) who’s held her hand for the longest time.

For some reason, the thought doesn’t bother her. She’s able to push it away and concentrate on picking food that she’s actually going to want to eat instead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this chapter isn't as late as I thought it would be. 
> 
> It's weird to say that looking at my outline, we're about halfway through the fic. It still only feels like I'm getting started, but then fics always feel like that.
> 
> If you enjoyed it or have any questions, please let me know in a comment! I'm also contactable on [Tumblr](http://www.betweentheheavesofstorm.tumblr.com) for further chatting/enquiries. (Also if the next update runs late, you can probably find me mentioning where I am with it in my 'writer things' tag.)
> 
> *Edit* just thought I'd add that that [runakvaed](http://runakvaed.tumblr.com) on Tumblr made [this fantastic edit](http://runakvaed.tumblr.com/post/157097542683/the-words-would-only-rhyme) for this fic!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Can I ask,’ he sits down, pulling the blanket over his lap, ‘how does somebody with visions of the future not end up with an idea of it?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry that this is late!

‘Senator Mothma wants to meet you,’ Cassian says, a few days later.

‘Why?’ Jyn looks across to him, for once more curious than cautious. If the leaders of the Alliance are taking an interest in her that could be bad news very quickly, but he seems relaxed and he’s got a good instinct for trouble.

‘Just a formality, I think. Pass the hydrospanner?’

She digs around in the toolbox and passes it over. Since promising that he won’t go on any missions, he’s spent his time working on what used to be his ship. A battered U-wing, it’s been used a couple of times in his absence and is a little worse for wear.

With nothing better to do, she’s been hanging round with him, passing tools, annoying K2 and and learning pieces about how it fits together. It’s frustrating, not being able to do anything by herself, but Cassian’s not patronizing and at times she even enjoys it.

(Maybe because when they spend days surrounded by machinery and covered in grease, the war and the rest of the galaxy start to seem distant, someone else’s priority. It’s a luxury she’s unused to, but she could definitely _get_ used to it. Her body is enjoying the rest and her mind – well, her mind is in a strange place nowadays.)

‘Downside of marrying a captain,’ she says. ‘You’re important enough to be introduced to people. When is this happening?’

‘After lunch. I meant to tell you earlier and forgot.’

‘You’ll have to be polite,’ K2 says. ‘If you can do that.’

‘Look who’s talking.’

‘Don’t be nervous,’ Cassian says.

‘I’m not. I’ve met scarier people.’

‘You _are_ a scary person,’ K2 says.

‘Thanks.’

‘It wasn’t a compliment.’

‘Why don’t we go for lunch now?’ Cassian asks, putting down the hydrospanner and wiping his hands on his trousers.

‘I’ll stay and finish this,’ K2 sounds irritated, but then that is more or less his default state.

‘See you,’ Jyn tells him, hopping down from the stool she’d been sitting on and falling in step with Cassian.

‘Are there any topics I should avoid?’ she asks, as they weave through the assembled ships to the exit.

‘Just stay in character. You’ll be fine.’

It’s not tremendously helpful advice, but it does turn out to be the only advice she needs. Once they’ve finished eating, Cassian walks her to a briefing room where the Senator awaits.

Jyn didn’t really have an image of what she thought Mothma was going to be like, but even so she’s surprised. The woman holds herself carefully, in the way that somebody does when they’re used to people looking at them. She catches sight of Jyn and Cassian and smiles. The smile gives away a life of politics, somehow warm and reserved simultaneously.

‘Captain. Mrs. Andor.’

‘Senator,’ Cassian nods politely.

‘Nice to meet you,’ Jyn says.

‘Captain Andor has been with us a long time,’ Mothma replies, shaking Jyn’s hand. The courtesy is almost jarring; no authority figure has ever been this respectful. ‘I’m afraid we’re all still adjusting to this development.’

‘So are we,’ Jyn leans into Cassian’s shoulder in what’s fast becoming a practiced maneuver. He reacts smoothly, mirroring her ease.

‘Cassian,’ Mothma says, offsetting the familiar mode of address with a brisk tone, ‘would you mind if I spoke to your wife privately for a moment?’

‘Of course not. Shall I wait outside, or …?’

‘I’ve heard you’re repairing your ship,’ Mothma says. ‘I’m sure Mrs. Andor would be capable of finding her own way back to you.’

‘All right. I’ll see you later then.’ He bids a polite goodbye and rests a hand on Jyn’s shoulder as he passes. Not for the first time, she thinks that he must have been in a close relationship before; he’s able to mimic it so aptly.

‘As I said, we were all surprised to hear of Captain Andor’s marriage,’ Mothma says.

Jyn is silent. Is she about to identity her or deliver another sermon about how much Cassian isolates himself?

God, it’s a good thing that their positions aren’t reversed. If everything had worked out differently and she was presenting him to Saw Gerrera as her husband, she can only imagine the mirth it would generate. Saw wouldn’t believe her for a minute and if he did, he wouldn’t ever let her forget it. She probably would have blown the whole story in about a week after one of Saw’s men made one joke too many about her newfound domesticity.

‘…steadying influence,’ Mothma continues and Jyn realises she hasn’t been paying attention. She just nods, hoping that whatever the Senator was saying it’s something that’s okay to agree with.

‘I would also like to ask,’ Mothma concludes, ‘if you and your husband would like to take leave. I understand that this is a tumultuous time for you both.’

‘No,’ Jyn says, way too quickly, and then hurries to clarify. ‘He would never want to leave. The Rebellion is everything to him.’

‘It will still be here in a month’s time. Surely you would like some time to yourselves.’

She and Cassian might slowly be coming to terms with one another, but she still can’t imagine anything worse than the two of them exiled, without anything to work towards.

‘No,’ she says again. ‘I appreciate the offer, but I think that would put too much stress on both of us. In fact, if possible, I would like to request a place on a mission as soon as the medcenter clears me.’

Mothma seems surprised. ‘Captain Andor didn’t mention you were interested.’

‘He needs some convincing.’

‘It would be dangerous.’

‘I’m more than used to that.’

She nods thoughtfully. ‘You would have to pass a physical examination in addition to receiving a bill of health.’

‘I can do that.’

‘I imagine you’ll have to ask your husband, then. He’s sufficiently qualified and our current instructors are busy with the newest group of recruits.’

‘I will. Thanks.’ She has another idea. ‘Until the medcenter releases me, though, I’d like to do something. Cassian’s mostly been working on the ship, but he did mention he might be working in a strategic function.’

‘That is correct. What is it you’re asking?’

‘I’d like to help. I understand that I’m not formally part of the Resistance, but I’ve grown up with a working knowledge of guerilla tactics.’

‘Captain Andor said your previous occupations involved smuggling.’

‘Yes.’

Mothma considers her for a minute. She seems tempted, perhaps more out of curiosity than a genuine belief that Jyn will be helpful.

‘Sit in on the next conference, and we’ll see.’

‘Thank you.’

‘If you’ll excuse me, I have matters to attend to.’ Mothma pauses. ‘I am willing to take a chance on you, Mrs. Andor. Perhaps I’m being unwise, but Captain Andor has described you as remarkable and I’ve never known him to be wrong. However, I would also like to remind you that here we take the Rebellion very seriously. Being opposed to the Empire is not the same as fighting for the Alliance. If you are able and willing to help our cause, we will appreciate that assistance. But if you are merely looking for something to occupy your time, I must request you direct your energies elsewhere.’

Well, it’s clear why she’s a politician. If she’s figured Jyn out that quickly, how long before she realises the truth of the relationship?

‘I’m not just bored,’ Jyn lies. ‘But you’re right. I wasn’t part of the Resistance before. I’m doing this for Cassian.’

Mothma studies her for a moment, still quietly calculating. Then –

‘You may be of some use. Please excuse me.’

 

Cassian is unimpressed to hear she’s talked herself into strategy meetings.

‘You’re a bounty-hunter,’ he argues, when she rejoins him. ‘That’s completely different from organizing a team.’

‘I _was_ a bounty-hunter,’ she corrects him. ‘I’ve got no idea what I’m doing now.’

‘My point still stands.’

‘Do you know who taught me to fight?’

‘I assume somebody in the Empire?’

‘No. After my mother was killed and my father retaken, Saw Gerrera raised me. _He_ taught me what I know.’

‘That’s hardly a recommendation. The Alliance broke off contact with him years ago.’

‘Why?’

‘He takes a ruthless approach. Not everybody was comfortable with it.’

Ruthless. Like abandoning a teenager in a bunker because she was getting in the way of the bigger picture. Like taking a child in and turning her into a weapon.

‘The Senator said I could. So I’m going to.’

 

It’s a strange set of patterns that they fall into over the next couple of weeks. They move between the bed and the floor on alternating nights, though in the dance round each other to get changed they’re getting steadily more careless. It might also be because when she’s spent forty-eight hours (or however long it was) around him when his shirt had been shredded, it doesn’t seem like a big deal to see him topless. He’s very careful about giving her space, which is nice if unnecessary.

Opposed as she still is to the Rebellion, she can’t help noticing that the routine it’s offering isn’t bad. The mornings and evenings are marked with meals, which they spend with Bodhi, Baze and Chirrut. The latter two return from their mission a little dustier, but no worse for wear. And K2 is a constant, accompanying Cassian wherever he goes. She still spends a good fifty percent of their interactions wanting to blow his head off, but that’s not a feeling that’s going to dissipate over time.

What she’s actually enjoying the most, weirdly enough, is the work. On the one hand, the war is the bane of her life. It means that she wakes up thinking there’s blood in her mouth and smoke in her eyes, that she doesn’t assume she’ll survive past thirty and if she does it will be a fucking miracle. If they weren’t fighting, if the Resistance had won already, she could find herself a farm or a person or just travel without having to look over her shoulder. There are so many things she would miss if she let herself think about it.

On the other hand, she can’t conceive of a peaceful galaxy because then she’d have no idea what to do. Not really. The ideas of a farm or a man or a ship are only ideas, not possibilities. Meanwhile, she’s _good_ at fighting. She knows how it works and where she stands with it. It reminds her of what Cassian had said, back in their first fight. Something about not wanting the war to end, so that she could keep working. He can’t know how right he was.

(Not when the same isn’t true for him. She can see it in his interactions with K2, Bodhi and the others. Even sometimes when he’s talking to her. He could find a person to be after the war. It’s doubtful she could.)

Yet as with many things these days, there is an upside. She’s earning herself a place in the strategy meetings; people have learned to look in her direction if they want something that’s a little sneaky or a touch underhand. Now and again she’ll go too far and suggest something that they blanch at and she can feel them wondering where she got it all from. Still, it’s enough for Mothma to keep her around, which is the main thing.

Cassian seems impressed, in his own way. He tries hard not to show it, though whether that’s because it’s her or because of what she suggests she’s unsure.

Not that he seems to need her. With every meeting, it becomes increasingly clear how he’s risen to the rank of captain at just twenty-seven. He’s quick thinking and creative and she’s started making a point of listening when he speaks up because it’s going to be something good.

(She can’t tell whether that’s reassuring or annoying. The smarter he is the safer she is, but she also prefers to be a step ahead of the people around her in case things go wrong. In this situation, she’s just got to rely on things working out – that, or hoping Cassian will come through for her if they don’t.)

 

One afternoon finds her and Chirrut sitting at lunch, just the two of them. There are no strategic meetings to attend, so Cassian’s gone back to work on his U-wing and seems to have forgotten to eat. It’s something that happens to Bodhi a lot; forgetting the world outside the hangar exists until the end of the day and then he’s starving.

‘Where’s Baze?’ Jyn asks, taking the seat opposite. She’d chosen to sleep in that morning, a luxury rarely afforded by her previous lifestyle.

‘He had a message from his sister. He’s recording a response now.’ Chirrut’s head is turned away from her, facing the rest of the canteen. ‘How are you doing?’

‘I’m good.’

‘You’re adjusting well. My first week in the Resistance, I was in three fights.’

‘What happened?’

He smiles. ‘Some recruits thought they could jump me.’

‘You were a guardian, right? How come you aren’t anymore?’

‘Baze. Much like the Jedi order, the Guardians of the Whills believe attachment to be a distraction.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘They were mistaken about the Force. It is still with me, stronger than before.’

She’s never been a part of anything, so by extension has never been kicked out. Not officially, anyway.

‘What did you say to him?’ Chirrut asks. ‘To Captain Andor, to make him lie like this?’

This question was also coming, she reminds herself. Chirrut has probably known since the start, she should have been more prepared to answer it.

‘We have a deal,’ she says. ‘He lies, and I…’

‘You have an ability,’ Chirrut says. Is it an informed guess, or can he tell outright? Is this the sort of thing a Guardian knows?

‘Yes. I see things that are going to happen.’

‘A great military advantage.’

‘Exactly.’

‘But terrible, for you.’

‘It’s the worst. But I like to think it helps, sometimes. It’s probably the reason I’m still alive.’ She stares into her soup.

‘And that’s why you’re here,’ Chirrut nods, putting the pieces together. ‘You saw something and Captain Andor is the only one who can help.’

‘Don’t tell him.’ This conversation ought to have her way more panicked than it does. Maybe it’s the fact that Chirrut’s capable of inferring from the little she does say, or the calm confidence that he always radiates. Whatever it is, it’s the thing that’s prevented her from fleeing the room as soon as the topic came up.

‘I won’t. But I think you’d be surprised. He’s a good man.’

‘When he found out who I was, he hated me.’

‘And now he shares everything he has with you.’ Chirrut points out. ‘I wouldn’t dismiss that.’

 

 

‘What type of mission do you think they’d send me on?’ Jyn asks, when they’re preparing for bed this evening. It’s her turn on the mattress and Cassian’s on the floor.

‘I’m not sure.’ He picks up his blanket and shakes it out. ‘We have to be careful; anything too high profile and you’ll get recognised.’

‘I thought I was going to be famous when I was younger,’ she admits. ‘Be a renowned general, or something. The way everyone does. Never thought it would be like this.’

‘I never thought I’d marry a bounty-hunter,’ he replies. ‘These things happen.’

‘Touché.’

‘It’s affecting me weirdly. The other day, I was talking to someone and they mentioned five-year-plans.’ He looks at her. ‘Us – me and Lianna – what’s our plan for the future? If people asked.’

Jyn gets into bed. ‘I’m not sure she has one.’

‘No, _you_ don’t have one. I asked about Lianna.’

‘Okay, fine. She might go back to Naboo. She wants to show it to you.’

‘Good.’

‘And you?’

‘I have the Resistance.’

‘What if you didn’t?’ She hates herself for asking, but now the words have been said and there’s no backing away from it. ‘What if we won? What do you do then?’

He thinks for a moment. ‘I could go into teaching. Flight instructor or something.’

That makes sense. He’d be good at explaining things.

‘Can I ask,’ he sits down, pulling the blanket over his lap, ‘how does somebody with visions of the future not end up with an idea of it?’

There’s only going to be one way to put this. Fuck it, she’s told him almost everything else and she is in his bed, even if it’s not like that.

‘I’ve seen myself die,’ she tells him. That’s all the detail he needs, the confession itself should be enough to satisfy his curiosity. ‘A few times. Different ways.’ A lie, it’s the courtyard, it’s always been the courtyard.

He frowns. ‘What do you mean?’

‘My visions change sometimes, according to what I do. Or I have an alternative one.’

‘Does that mean you know how you’re going to die?’

‘No. But once it’s happened a couple of times, it’s not something you get over. You get why I’m not fussed about five-year-plans.’

‘That must be terrible.’

She shrugs. ‘I deal.’

He nods slowly and begins to lie back, pulling the blanket to cover the rest of his body. She’s hit with a rush of relief that it’s his turn on the floor, which is soon followed by another thought.

‘This is ridiculous.’

He’d been about to turn out the light, but now looks back at her. ‘What is? You’re going to have to be specific.’

‘This,’ she waves at the bed and then at him. ‘The swapping. I’m going to be here for a while, right? So why don’t we just share? There’s enough room.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘If it means I don’t have to sleep on the floor every night, absolutely.’ She scoots over to the far side of the bed.

He stares at her for another minute, and then makes up his mind. Turning the light off, he gets up and onto the edge of the mattress, very cautious not to come too close.

‘If it does get crowded, I can go back.’

‘Maybe it will give us some insight into how couples work.’

‘I don’t know that there’s any great revelation in just sleeping next to somebody.’

‘I wouldn’t know.’

‘Oh. Wait, really? You’ve never – ’

‘Slept _with_ people, yes.’ How are they having this conversation? ‘But not – just sharing.’

She’s glad it’s dark.

‘It can be nice.’

‘I guess I’ll find out.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘For what?’

‘That this…you’re not doing it with someone who matters.’

‘I’m not that sentimental.’ She closes her eyes. Even with the space between them, it’s already warmer under the blanket.

 

A few hours later, one of her dreams drifts into a vision. When she was younger, she couldn’t always tell the difference. Now she’s more aware of the nuances. The dream she has before it is vague, she can’t see anyone’s faces. The vision is less subtle. It’s like going from being submerged in cloudy water to diving into a clear pool.

She’s standing in a corridor, a blaster in her hands that she’s holding out in front of her. Cassian is there; he and another soldier are restraining a grey-haired man in a white Imperial uniform. The man looks vaguely familiar, as if she ought to know him but doesn’t. Cassian is hanging his arm, shouting at him. They’re standing in front of a door; she can see the number 10642 written on it and all around them sirens are wailing shrilly. Someone slams into her back and she trips forward, falling out of her vision and sitting abruptly upright in bed.

‘Are you all right?’ Cassian has woken up too. ‘Jyn, are you okay?’

She’s shaking, she realises. She’s pushed the blanket away and her arms are tightly drawn in to her sides in a protective pose. She lets out a long breath in an attempt to compose herself.

‘It’s fine. Just a vision. I’m fine.’ Her voice breaks on the last syllable. It doesn’t make sense, not when it’s one of the least traumatic visions she’s had. Fuck, she’s _died_ so many times that she should be desensitized to everything.

‘Jyn, you’re…’ Very slowly, so as not to startle her, he touches her arm. She hasn’t realised until he does so that she’s drenched in sweat.

‘It’s nothing,’ she tries again, but the image of the man floats up before her eyes and her breath catches in her throat. This is the worst way for her to break down, not only when he’s there but when he’s _there._ Sitting in bed next to her, looking concerned when he has no right to be.

‘Jyn, look at me,’ he says, tugging her arm gently. ‘Breathe.’

Why is he doing this? Speaking softly and touching gently like she’s somebody he cares about. Like she’s somebody _worth_ caring about.

She does as he suggests anyway, concentrating on her breathing. His hand is still on her bicep, warm and steady, anchoring her. It’s okay; she’ll be okay. Whoever the man is, she can find out. She can find out and when she’s there she can kill him. It looked like she was going to kill him. It’s all right, Cassian is there, and as long as he stays there she’s going to survive.

‘Sorry,’ she mutters, once her breathing is at a reasonable pace.

‘Do you want to tell me about it?’

‘No.’ It will sound silly if she says it out loud, admitting that she’s freaked out over something so mundane. ‘I’m sorry, I – this doesn’t usually happen.’

‘I noticed.’ He lets go. The sudden absence of his hand leaves her arm colder than she expected.

‘I’m gonna go back to sleep.’

‘Okay. If you need anything – ’

‘I’m good. Really.’

‘Jyn. Was the vision important? To the Rebellion?’

Whoever the man she saw is, the way her gut twisted, he has to be essential.

‘I’ll tell you in the morning.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about how late this is. I really didn't think it would be this bad, but I guess these things happen.
> 
> As I've only just finished this chapter, I can't really say when the next one will be - it looks like my tidy Friday updates might be going out the window. If you do want to ask where I am with it, though, feel free to send me an ask [on Tumblr.](http://www.betweentheheavesofstorm.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you liked this chapter, please do let me know in a comment - reading them is always the highlight of my day xx


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘You know,’ Bodhi says thoughtfully, setting down his spoon, ‘I had wondered before why Cassian never showed any interest in women.’

It shouldn’t be a big deal, waking up next to someone. Cassian’s probably done it a million times before but, as she’s established, this is a first for Jyn. She lies awake for a few minutes, taking it in. Somehow having another body in the bed makes it bigger, which doesn’t make sense when she’s now got less of the mattress. Only it doesn’t feel like a mattress anymore, but an amount of space that she’s taking up and an amount of space that he’s taking up and a cosy wasteland between them.

She’s warmer than she’s used to, an unanticipated side effect of having another body under a blanket. It makes sense that she’s experiencing all this to maintain a cover, it’s not the type of thing she’d ever do otherwise.

Then Cassian stirs, blinking awake, and the moment passes. They’re up and businesslike again, the way things should be. It looks like they can carry on as normal until he pauses on the way to breakfast to ask if she’s all right.

‘Fine.’ But less fine about the fact that he asked. She’d expected to dream about the man in the vision, but he’d stayed out of her head until she’d woken up.

‘Do you think you can tell the Senator about what you saw?’

The prospect of deliberately recalling every detail makes her stomach churn, but she’s going to have to do it in order to prove her visions and she may as well get it other with.

‘’Course.’ She moves off again, anxious to escape the topic. The ideal scenario is walking in silence, but if they do have to make conversation she’d rather mot revisit the previous night. Her meltdown was embarrassing enough without discussing it now.

Thankfully, Cassian doesn’t seem any more interested in the topic, unconsciously matching her desire not to chat. Breakfast is always a highly social event and she’s going to need to muster energy for it. He sends a message via his communicator to arrange a meeting with the Senator and she goes over the vision again, pulling out details that could be important. That was the advantage of keeping it to herself; she never had to explain them to anyone.

 

‘You know,’ Bodhi says thoughtfully, setting down his spoon, ‘I had wondered before why Cassian never showed any interest in women.’

This is not heading in a good direction.

‘Because you’re all about dating?’ Cassian returns, finishing his own meal and pushing the plate away from him.

Bodhi holds up his hands. ‘Okay, I don’t do sex, but a little romance never goes amiss. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to have wondered why a good-looking, heterosexual man – ’

‘Is there _no one_ else to talk about?’ Jyn interrupts. ‘The whole Rebel Alliance and you don’t have gossip about anyone else?’

Bodhi falls silent. Then, ‘What about Luke Skywalker? I heard he’s turning out to be a decent pilot.’

‘The Force is with him,’ Chirrut agrees.

‘Not that again.’ Baze shakes his head.

‘I dunno, there’s a rumour running round that the Princess had some kind of Force vision of him and paid a smuggler to find him,’ Bodhi chips in. ‘She didn’t tell anyone, just hired the guy.’

‘He’s her brother, right?’ Jyn says. Across the table, she and Cassian lock eyes. He’s thinking the same thing. If Force visions are a thing, does that make her Force sensitive? Was the Princess’s vision like hers?’

‘That’s the story.’

‘How come you know so much about it?’ Baze wants to know.

‘One of her droids was telling K2.’

‘Where _is_ K2?’ Jyn looks around. He usually joins them at meals, but this morning he’s nowhere to be seen.

‘We had a disagreement yesterday.’ Cassian explains. ‘He believes you’re distracting me from work.’

‘I was going to accuse your work of distracting you from me. Do you need to speak to him?’

‘He’ll get over it.’

‘He’s just jealous,’ Chirrut opines.

‘Like I said, I’ll handle it.’ Cassian clearly wants it dropped, so Bodhi begins talking about how good Skywalker is in an X-wing. Jyn listens with amusement. She didn’t look at Luke and think master pilot, but her first impressions have been wildly off lately.

‘It’s called good instinct.’ Baze has started his attack on the Force again. ‘Good instinct and fast reaction time. There’s nothing mystical about it.’

‘How did the Princess find out about her brother then?’

‘Maybe old Organa let something slip. She looks nothing like her parents, isn’t hard to tell she’s adopted.’

‘’Cause that’s something you’d accidentally reveal,’ Jyn says. ‘By the way, you have a brother we didn’t mention for nineteen years.’

Baze shrugs. ‘I didn’t say they’d thought it out.’

She stares at her plate. ‘Must have been a weird thing to discover.’

When she was five, she’d desperately wanted a little sister. There weren’t any other kids aboard the Star Destroyers she lived on, so she’d resorted to playing with mouse droids and getting in their way. (Shockingly, it didn’t make her popular among officers whose messages she’s disrupted.)

She didn’t really realise why her parents never had another child until she was fifteen. One of Saw Gerrera’s men was screaming about the fact that harboring Galen Erso’s child was unnecessarily dangerous and she, the girl who never cried, was sobbing because she thought they’d turn her out on the street. Saw got the guy to shut up and leave her alone, but she can’t help thinking that’s what prompted him to leave her a year later.

It’s clear to her now; she’s been a liability since she was born, a weakness any of her parents’ enemies could exploit. Another child would have doubled that risk and her parents were sensible enough to know that. Fuck, she understands it even better now because if she discovered a younger sibling it would become her job to take care of them and she’s not very good at looking after things. Most days she can barely manage herself.

Hopefully the Princess is more together with her life.

‘Yavin to Lianna,’ Cassian says, waving his spoon in front of her face. ‘You there? We should get going, the Senator agreed to see us before the morning briefing.’

‘Yeah. Right.’ Gathering herself, she nods a goodbye to everyone at the table and grabs her tray.

When they’re out of the canteen, she brings up K2 up again.

‘I’m sorry it’s affecting you two.’

‘He’s being a baby,’ Cassian shrugs. ‘It’s not a big deal.’

‘Hopefully it won’t be a problem for much longer,’ she points out. ‘If we can prove my visions true, we don’t have to be married anymore.’

‘True,’ he agrees. ‘You can have your own room.’

‘You haven’t been the worst person to share with.’ She can’t picture falling asleep in a room by herself. It’s been too long. ‘But I can’t wait for Bodhi to stop talking about our love lives.’

‘You think this will make him stop?’ Cassian shakes his head. ‘He’ll never shut up about this. It’ll be the best gossip the Alliance has had for years.’

‘Can’t wait.’

 _It’s weird how used to it I am,_ she almost says. Almost, because that would suggest she’s enjoying it and that would be fucked up on so many levels. She’s not not-enjoying it anymore, that’s the best way to put it.

‘We are good at it, though,’ she says, a beat later. ‘I mean, we convinced everyone.’

‘I imagine we’ll still work together,’ he says. ‘When they find people who can put up with me and K2 they tend to get stuck with us.’

She doesn’t have to respond to that, they’re at the meeting room and Mothma is already inside. They enter, offer preliminary greetings and Jyn launches into an explanation of the visions in general and the specific one she’d had.

Telling Cassian ought to have set her up for telling most people, but then Cassian is so unlike _most people_ that the experiences don’t compare. She hadn’t known him very well when she’d revealed it, but she’d still been used to clashing with him. Arguments were a regular part of their early alliance.

Mothma is a very different audience. She’s a more patient listener, entirely unfazed by what she’s hearing. Jyn’s not sure whether that’s a good thing or not.

‘Thank you, Mrs. Andor,’ Mothma says, once Jyn has concluded. ‘I’m not sure if it will be relevant, but I appreciate your sharing the information.’

It takes a second for what she’s said to sink in. Cassian reacts more quickly.

‘Not relevant? Don’t you believe her?’

‘I do,’ Mothma says mildly, ‘I have heard of similar phenomena. The recent incident with Princess Leia, the Corellian smuggler and Luke Skywalker, for example.’

‘Then why isn’t it helpful?’ Cassian demands. ‘We know what’s going to happen. We shouldn’t waste that advantage.’

‘It doesn’t seem like much of an advantage to me. All Mrs. Andor has told me is that the two of you will successfully capture an Imperial officer. It is not very much to work with.’

Jyn should really say something; stand up for herself instead of letting Cassian do all the work. Yet she’s also stunned, trying to rationalize what the Senator has said. Disbelief, doubt and outright rejection she can handle, but nobody has ever questioned the _use_ of seeing the future before.

‘I see,’ she says. The room is very bright now and Mothma’s well-meaning eyes are boring into her. ‘I’m sorry for wasting your time.’

She turns and walks out without being dismissed. The reaction she got, it was so painfully _ordinary_. As if she’d come up with an idea of how to run a mission but had overlooked some serious holes. Definitely not what you’d expect from spilling your (second) biggest secret.

‘That’s it, then,’ she says, when Cassian catches up with her. ‘I can’t reveal myself.’

‘She may change her mind.’

‘You saw that. She’s got her mind made up.’

‘It does look that way.’

‘So we’re stuck. We’d have to break up. Divorce. We could probably stage a fight.’

‘That would mean never working together,’ he points out. ‘And I’m not sure how well your amnesty would apply once we separated.’

‘So, what? We do this forever?’

‘I don’t know. Forever is a long time. Maybe you’ll have another vision that will be more helpful. Or something else will change. We might not have to be the best fake couple on the planet.’

‘You’re right. We could be dead next week. Short-term worries.’

‘That wasn’t where I was going, but sure.’ He glances at something over his shoulder and frowns. ‘Must have been a short briefing. The Senator’s coming this way.’

‘I really, _really_ do not want to speak to her right now.’

‘I can think of a way out of it,’ he mutters, ‘if you’re still good with kissing.’

It’s really not a hard choice. She nods rapidly and he pulls her towards him, hands sliding around her waist and bringing his lips down to hers.

Out of all the techniques they could have used, it’s not a very subtle one. For two people who have spent a good part of their lives undercover, they should be harder to rattle. It’s practically Spy 101 that kissing never works. Unless, she thinks, the two people involved are already meant to be in a long-term relationship.

Her hands come to rest on the sides of his ribcage, curling round to touch his back. His lips are very warm and their noses are brushing and there is no way that Mothma will talk to them now.

The Senator passes with a swish of white robes and they stay put for another minute, just to be safe. It renders the kiss shallow but lingering: more style than substance but that is what they’re going for.

Jyn pulls away first, scanning the corridor to check they’re clear. Mothma is still in sight, but her back is turned to them. Jyn refocuses on Cassian, uncomfortably aware of how fast her heart is going. It must be because she hasn’t kissed anybody for a while, not because his mouth was warm and for a good second she’d wanted to deepen it.

(What would that be like, to kiss him properly, as if she meant it? As if she ever could mean it. She repels the thought. Her brain is static enough, without her doing this to it.)

For his part, Cassian seems just as scrambled. There’s a strange expression written across his face that she can’t decipher but given what’s just happened that’s hardly surprising.

He kissed her. Sure she’d agreed to it beforehand, but the concept and the act itself are very different. He kissed her and she kissed him and she didn’t mind. There’s that side to it too. She was okay with it. In fact, she’d probably even say he’s a better kisser than some of the men she’s chosen to make out with.

And if they have to keep the lie going long-term, that would imply doing it again. Which, now that they’ve done it once, doesn’t seem like such a bad thing. They don’t _like_ each other like that, they aren’t _that_ stupid, but as lips go his are not bad.

If they keep the lie going indefinitely, it would make him the only person she can kiss. She hadn’t thought about that. Not that she has a desperate desire to get laid, but it would apply to Cassian too. Bodhi had said he wasn’t really into dating, but it’s not inconceivable that he could meet somebody.

Somehow it’s unpleasant to picture. Even though she has no right to be possessive over him and isn’t, not really, the thought of someone else holding his hand and sleeping in his bed makes her recoil. Maybe because he’s her lifeline in the Alliance. If someone got in the way she’d have to leave. But then there’s the courtyard vision. He’s her lifeline, full stop.

And maybe, if she’s grudgingly honest with herself, she’ll admit she’s getting sentimental. She’s fond of him, not in the same way she’s fond of Bodhi but in a way that would make her resent being replaced. Working with him is good; it’s fun to have someone who’s on the same page and even if the fake marriage is a tenuous plot to bet her life on it has given them some sense of conspiracy.

(After all, if she got caught now he’d come down with her. She can’t imagine harboring a known bounty-hunter and lying to superior officers would go down too well in the Alliance.)

‘I’ll see you later,’ she says, when they get to the hangar. It’s a maintenance day today; they haven’t been invited to any of the meetings Mothma’s chairing and for once that’s a good thing.

‘You all right?’

‘Fine. Just need to clear my head.’ She’s considering going back to their room and trying to sleep some more. The idea has definite appeal: if she’s unconscious she can’t overthink everything. But then if she can’t sleep, the overthinking will definitely happen.

She spots Bodhi on the other side of the hangar and makes her way over to him instead. He’s fiddling with several disassembled pieces of machinery in a way that looks suspiciously like procrastinating.

‘Hey,’ she says, putting her hands in her pockets.

‘Hi.’

‘Whatcha doing?’

‘Cleaning these.’ He holds something up.

‘You realise that’s just a hunk of metal to me, right?’

‘Yeah, okay.’

‘How’s it going?’

‘Good! I was just talking to Luke Skywalker. Kid’s from Tatooine, we had a whole discussion about getting sand out of speeder engines – ’

‘Bodhi.’

He tails off. ‘Well, yeah, you probably had to be there. Everything good with you?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Why? What happened?’

He’s got a sensible head on his shoulders, she remembers. The more she’s got to know him, the more she likes him, which is nice if weird. Friendship is something she’s out of practice with.

‘I was thinking about the future,’ she says. It would be amazing if she could explain what’s happening, or better yet if he knew without needing to be told. But if he discovered who she was, there would be yet another person she’d be reliant on. Plus, she gets the impression he’s been through enough shit not to keep her secrets too.

‘What did you do that to yourself for?’

‘I was just thinking. I don’t know. It’s very cliché, but I find myself wondering what I’m doing here.’

‘The right thing.’

‘Is it, though? I wasn’t part of the Resistance before and I only am now because of Cassian. I’ve said I’ll do missions because why not, but I’m not sure it will actually help anyone.’

‘All right.’ He puts down the thing he was holding. ‘It’s tragic backstory time. You want to know why I defected?’

‘The words ‘totalitarian fascist regime’ spring to mind.’

‘I wasn’t a stormtrooper, though. Just a cargo pilot. All I did was move things around and not ask questions. That didn’t make me a bad guy, right? I told myself it was about survival. I was in a fairly safe place: under the Empire’s protection and not doing anything that should get me killed.’

‘And?’

‘It was still wrong. My inactivity – that was wrong. Here, a lot of people get discouraged because they’re tiny pieces in a huge picture. Nothing you do as an individual has an effect on the war. So all of us cargo pilots figured it didn’t ultimately matter if we worked for the Empire. We weren’t going to wipe out the Rebellion just by flying a couple of ships. But then there was a strike. Everyone on that base stopped working. And they freaked out. They had to dispatch stormtroopers to restore order. Which means there was fewer stormtroopers somewhere else and maybe ‘cause they were shooting us they weren’t killing innocent families.’

‘I had no idea.’

‘They covered it up pretty quickly. Not many of us actually got away. Even fewer actually made it here.’ He stops to think for a moment before continuing. ‘You can look at it another way, too. There are plenty of people who _can’t_ rebel. So if you can, you should. I don’t know what’s happened in your life. There could be plenty of trauma I don’t know about. But for what it’s worth, I do think you fit in here. Cassian loves you a lot, that’s obvious. And the rest of us think you’re pretty great, so…’

‘Thanks, Bodhi.’

‘You should say something now, because I have a thing where once I start talking I never stop.’

‘I noticed. But really, thanks.’

‘It takes us all a while to settle in. Food’s different, schedule’s different and if you’re different people notice. It can be comforting to be a tiny speck in something much bigger.’

Jyn nods, instead of telling him that she’s not a speck. She’s not in the Rebellion and not an asset to it, which by Bodhi’s book would man she’s not anything. In fact, her only claim to fame is being the only bounty-hunter to have kissed a Rebel captain, which is going to make a funny story someday but isn’t much right now.

‘Tell me more about Luke Skywalker,’ she says. ‘Distract me.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I look at the shambles that is my update schedule and profusely apologise. It's a busy week/month/year and I'm really grateful to everyone for your patience and for sticking with it.
> 
> If you're enjoying it or have any questions, please let me know in a comment or on [tumblr!](http://www.betweentheheavesofstorm.tumblr.com)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s getting fun, now. She hasn’t fought anyone like this for a long time, someone who’s fast and strong and will anticipate her next move.

However much Mon Mothma may or may not think Jyn useful in a psychic capacity, she’s not against using her full stop. Cassian gets a message during lunch a few days later ordering the two of them to report to the medbay for final evaluation.

They’ve waited far too long for this, but it does mean that they’re completely healed. A pink strip of scar tissue has replaced the gash on Jyn’s arm and when Cassian removes his shirt per the droid’s instruction, it doesn’t look like his back was ever wounded.

There’s one more thing in Jyn’s way before she can go into the field. As Mothma had said and Cassian reminds her, she still has to take a physical combat exam.

‘You’re a captain,’ she grumbles. ‘Can’t they just take it on your authority that I know what I’m doing?’

‘It’s procedure,’ he says, mild. ‘It’s good for their records.’

‘Records. I love being on those.’

He doesn’t rise to it. ‘Look on the bright side. You get to try and take me down.’

‘Try?’

‘That’s what I said.’

On their next afternoon off, they head over to a training room. The base has got a lot more than Jyn realised, including training facilities for recruits.

‘What?’ Cassian says, when she mentions this. ‘Did you think people signed up and we threw them straight into battle?’

‘I assumed anyone who was serious about rebelling would already know how to do things.’

‘You’ve got a lot of assumptions.’

The weirdest part of the instruction wing is easily the number of teenagers around. Jyn’s aware that the Alliance runs on young people, but to see seventeen year olds jostling their way to a flight lesson is still jarring. She and Cassian seem practically ancient in comparison.

Despite his insistences about procedure, the exam itself is very informal. They find an empty room, Cassian digs out some training mats and shrugs off his jacket.

‘Okay. Come at me.’

She surveys him for a moment, before feinting to the left and then attacking from the right. He sees it coming and dodges round, until he’s standing where she was a minute ago. He’s quick. She knew that already. She’s going to have to work a bit harder to surprise him.

They pace in a circle opposite each other, maintaining the distance. Even though she needs to win, and the competitive side of her is desperate to, she can’t muster any feeling of real aggression. She’s too desensitized to Cassian, has spent too much time sleeping next to him. It’s maybe the first time she’s faced somebody and been this much at ease.

He takes the initiative then, stepping in to close the gap. She watches his body and moves away at the last minute; almost identical to the move he did moments before. He’s expecting it, his arm comes out to catch her and she ducks under it.

It’s getting fun, now. She hasn’t fought anyone like this for a long time, someone who’s fast and strong and will anticipate her next move. It’s like having been stuck in dead-end conversations for hours and coming across somebody whose mind works at your level and your speed. He’s got answers to half her questions and is sending his own back. Having someone like him to spar with might just keep her sharp.

It can only go on for so long, though. He commits, grabbing her around the torso in an attempt to pin her in place. It’s a well-executed move, but he’s going to need more than that. She twists around to face him, forcing him to break his grip, and goes straight into the offensive. Curling her leg around his, she yanks it out from under him and pushes his chest down at the same time.

He grabs her as he falls, pulling her down with him. She lands ungracefully on his body, just having time to bring her arm up against the base of his neck.

‘Welcome to the Resistance,’ he says, and she can feel his breath on her face.

‘If this is what they call fighting, the Empire doesn’t have much to worry about.’

He lunges up, surprising her and tipping her backwards. She grabs out wildly for something to hold onto and winds up with a fistful of his shirt. He’s sitting up and she’s on his lap and it strikes her that if they were really in love, this is when she’d kiss him.

‘You’re a little rusty,’ he says, in the teasing tone he uses in front of people.

‘Says you. So, do I pass?’

‘What?’

‘The exam. Do I pass?’

‘With distinction.’

They get interrupted then; a handful of students burst into the room and find their proximity quite amusing. Jyn’s comfortable enough not to let their snickers get to her.

‘How soon d’you think we’ll get deployed?’ she asks, on their way back.

‘You’re that eager?’

‘To get off this planet? God yes.’

‘I was starting to think you’d come to like it.’

‘It’s not about liking it.’

‘I get that. You’re restless.’

‘Sitting here waiting for something bad to happen makes me feel like something bad _is_ going to happen.’ She glances at him, wondering if he’ll reassure her, tell her she’s safe here. Remind her that the lie is holding up and that to the rest of the galaxy, Jyn Erso has vanished without trace.

But he just shrugs and says, ‘As far as K’s aware, you _are_ something bad.’

 

She doesn’t have to wait too long. Cassian’s given the command of a rescue mission to Wobani and given clearance to take her along. It’s a relatively simple raid; busting out some Rebel soldiers from a labour camp.

‘You’re lucky they didn’t send you there,’ Cassian remarks, when they’re gearing up in preparation. ‘To a labour camp. You’re strong and young enough.’

‘Lucky for you that they didn’t.’

He nods, and then looks at the floor in a way that indicates he’s about to ask something more personal.

‘Are you sure you’re good about going?’

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘The vision.’

‘When things freak me out, I like to shoot them in the face.’ Done with the rest of her gear, she straps a holster onto her hip. ‘I find it helps.’

It’s a small mission, just six of them including K2 and Bodhi as pilots. They meet the other soldiers in the hangar; Cassian mutters a greeting but Jyn doesn’t have a chance to get acquainted until they’re on the ship.

They’re both guys, one in his forties and the other much younger. The latter is tall despite his youth, with gangling limbs too long for his torso, light skin and floppy orange hair that falls down into his eyes. He must be around the same age as Luke and, like Luke, has a wide-eyed eagerness that says only too loudly that he didn’t grow up with the war.

The other man is shorter and more heavily built. She recognises him as the other soldier from the vision. He doesn’t give his name, nor does she offer hers. She’s too well known as Mrs. Andor now to need to.

‘All right.’ Cassian says, closing the hatch behind him and signaling to K2 to take off. ‘This is an extraction. Eight Rebel troops were captured by the Empire two months ago. We received a transmission last week from one of them, revealing that they had been sent to Wobani and gave the number of the block they were being kept in. It will be dark by the time we arrive. We’re going to get in, get them out and get away before the alarm gets raised.’

It’s been a long time since she worked in a team like this, Jyn thinks. Cassian’s moved onto the finer details and she’s relieved to hear that she’ll stay with him and the other two will pair up.

‘No surprise there,’ the older soldier says. Jyn has started mentally calling him Tattoos, and the younger one Lanky.

‘It’s her first mission with us,’ Cassian says, explanatory but not apologetic.

‘That’s got implications,’ Tattoos says. ‘I don’t like the sound of it.’

‘What did you do before?’ Lanky asks.

‘Illegal things,’ Jyn tells him. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Cassian smile.

The journey isn’t too long to be frustrating. No one apart from Lanky is in the mood to make small talk and he’s good enough at realising that not to make an attempt. Jyn tries and fails not to overthink the vision that she must be about to experience. What she said to Cassian about coping mechanisms is true, but it would be nice to be able to not deal with it full stop.

No, it’ll be good for her to go. She’s spent too much time hidden away on Yavin IV and it’s given her stupid ideas about security. The Jyn Erso of a few months ago would have sneered at her current qualms.

(The Jyn Erso of a few months ago was invincible. When only one thing could kill her, it didn’t make sense to get worried about anything else.)

The sun has set on Wobani by the time they arrive. In the cockpit, Bodhi and K2 confer quietly about how best to approach and it strikes Jyn that a reprogrammed droid and a defector are the best possible pilots to sneak them in unnoticed. (Though when she stops to listen, they’re actually arguing about human gut instinct versus mathematical calculation. To the landing itself, they’re paying minimal attention.)

Jyn runs over her inventory again, checking the loaded blaster in her hand and its twin in the holster on her hip. She’s been issued with proper combat gear for this assignment, no more loose, light shirts and thin trousers. There’s something reassuring about the sturdiness of these garments, they don’t feel breakable in the same way. They’ve given her a decent pair of boots, too, meaning she can finally throw her old pair away – even if she’s vaguely uncomfortable with replacing them with ones that have the rebel insignia stamped on the side.

Cassian rises, his movement a wordless indication that they’re about to land. The ship touches down with a quiet _clunk_ and Jyn’s heart begins to beat faster. This is actually happening and she can’t back out.

Yet when the door hisses open and she follows Cassian outside, she’s calm. The wind hits her immediately and the ground is all mud, but her heart rate is steady again and it’s going to take more than bad weather to knock her off course.

Jogging at a crouch, she and Cassian made their way round a building. The mud is ankle deep here and the wind carries a sting of rain with it. She blinks the water out of her eyes and keeps going, glad that her hair is tightly secured.

They go in the east entrance. Lanky and Tattoos are taking the west; Cassian told them which cell blocks to check.

‘How come there aren’t any guards?’ Jyn asks, as they make their way into a corridor. It’s eerily familiar, but she pushes for something else to focus on. It’s easier than she expects. Bizarrely, something about being in a combat scenario is relaxing. She’d stopped noticing the suffocating feeling of the Rebel base, but it had still been there. Now, with fresh air in her lungs and a blaster in her hand, she feels a freedom that’s been absent so long she almost doesn’t recognise it.

(There’s some kind of metaphor there, about finding guns liberating even when it’s always been a blaster bolt that kills her. Maybe now it won’t be. That thought is nearly more alarming. Bolts are clean and quick, there are plenty of deaths that aren’t.)

‘Nothing to guard,’ Cassian replies. ‘The prisoners are locked up and even if they got out, where would they run?’

‘Does nobody ever get rescued?’

‘Anybody that important would have been executed,’ he points out.

‘Where is it we’re going?’

‘You didn’t listen?’

‘You said I’d be with you.’

He starts to laugh and then catches himself, regaining focus. Now is not the time or the place.

Though, as missions go, this one seems deceptively simple. There’s still no sign of any guards, so either Mon Mothma picked the simplest of assignments for them or they’re walking into a huge ambush.

The likelihood of it being the latter increases when they get to the sleeping cells and Cassian identifies the prisoners. It’s far too easy, Jyn thinks, as he shoots out the lock and opens the door. He’s got to know that. Or is her perspective too pessimistic? Not everything does go wrong all of the time. Maybe this time they will be able to get away without too much of a struggle.

The prisoners spill out into the corridor. Physically, they’re a mess; the short time they’ve been at the camp is already showing on their bodies. Yet they’re infused with energy, buoyed up by their release and tripping over their own feet in their hurry to get out. A couple of them are quite young, close to Lanky’s age. Once again, Jyn’s reminded that she wasn’t the only person to have her childhood snatched by the Empire.

It’s only when they’re all gathered in the corridor that she realises the futility of the rescue: none of the freed prisoners have weapons. Just because they haven’t run into trouble so far doesn’t mean it’s not a probability. And while realistically, she and Cassian couldn’t have carried enough for them all, there’s still something incredibly unfair in the way they have the means to defend themselves and the others are standing helpless.

On impulse, she grabs her other blaster out of its holster and hands it to one of the youngest, a girl about twenty with freckles all over her face. The girl accepts it gratefully, standing a little straighter.

Cassian frowns, but sees Jyn’s expression and doesn’t comment. He clears his throat and gives the prisoners a quick rundown of their escape plan. She would have told them to follow her and shoot anything that moves, but then that’s why he’s the captain and she’s the bounty-hunter.

The clarity of the order helps the prisoners; she can see their confidence growing. They set off again, as a group this time. Cassian is trying to get hold of Tattoos on his comlink to tell him the prisoners have been located, but he doesn’t seem to be answering.

Five minutes later they discover why. First a siren goes off, the klaxon slicing through the air and making them all jump. They speed up, turn a corner and there is Lanky, standing over the body of a deathtrooper. Just behind him, a man in a white cloak has a blaster drawn on Tattoos.

Cassian doesn’t wait to ask questions. He leaps forward, tackling the man from behind and tearing the blaster out of his hands. It skitters across the floor, out of reach, and Cassian stays holding onto the Imperial officer. Tattoos rushes to help, grabbing hold of the man’s other arm and Jyn extends her own blaster to point at him.

The Imperial officer looks up and his cold blue eyes go right through her.

She nearly drops the blaster. Her throat has gone very dry and she can’t seem to move. She knows those eyes and the lines of the face surrounding them; like they’re a building she knows the layout of but hasn’t walked through in years.

‘Jyn,’ the man says and his name comes rushing at her. Orson Krennic. He worked with her father and the acrid fear at the back of her throat belongs to her younger self.

He seems to be in as much shock; his jaw is hanging open and he’s staring at her. She can imagine the mental comparison that’s taking place, between the impulsive child he last saw and the scarred, vicious adult standing before him now.

His gaze flicks from the weapon in her hand to her clothes, and then to Cassian. He’s coming to the false conclusion that she joined the Resistance, but she’s got no intention of correcting him. It’s got to hurt; discovering a child you had hunted down has not only survived but is waging a war against you.

‘I thought you were dead,’ Krennic says.

She doesn’t move. ‘Sorry to disappoint.’

They’re at a stalemate now. She should shoot him; that would be the best outcome of this scenario. But at the same time he would be a valuable prisoner and an excellent indication to Mothma that she knows what she’s doing. She could shoot him in the shoulder or leg, away from his vital organs but still in a place that would incapacitate him. Then they could haul him back to Yavin IV with the freed prisoners and let somebody else deal with him.

Except, he knows who she is. It’s been over fifteen years, but he still recognised her and called her by name. Tattoos and Lanky will have heard; if they bring him with them he’s going to tell the whole Alliance who she really is.

‘Lianna,’ Cassian says. The urgency of his voice gets through to her; she can’t stand here forever. The sirens are still going and sooner or later they’re going to have company.

It happens sooner. There’s the sound of feet in the corridor behind her and she reacts without thinking, directing her blaster down and shooting Krennic in the foot.

He yells in pain, wrenching himself away from Cassian and Tattoos. They let him go; troopers will be here any second and their first priority is protecting the prisoners. Krennic dives around the corner and out of view. Jyn has to suppress the urge to follow him. His reinforcements can’t be very far away as a moment later a grenade rolls around the corner and Jyn’s heart stops.

She doesn’t think, running at Cassian, slamming him to the ground and covering his body with hers. The explosion ricochets through the corridor, tearing chunks out of the wall and sending dust everywhere. There’s a dull impact as pieces of debris hit her and then the smoke is clearing and she’s scrambling back.

‘Cassian!’ she shakes him.

‘I’m fine,’ he blinks dust out of his eyes. ‘Are you – ’

‘Fine.’ She’s tugging on his shirt now, trying to pull him towards her. ‘Get up, we’ve got to go, we’ve got to – ’

He stumbles to his feet and then freezes, his eyes travelling over her shoulder to the scene behind them. ‘Jy- Lianna.’

A sudden dread seizing her stomach, she turns and looks. The Rebel prisoners are all on the floor, and only some of them are stirring. One, a middle-aged woman, is lying on her back and her eyes are open and glassy. She is very clearly not getting up.

Fuck. The grenade wasn’t intended to kill her so much as destroy the mission. _Fuck._

‘We have to get back to the ship,’ Cassian mutters, moving past her to help the nearest person. It’s the freckled girl. ‘Lianna, help me.’

She rushes forward to help, gathering the others together. They don’t have long – Krennic and his deathtroopers seem to have retreated, but that’s not going to last. Out of the eight prisoners, three are dead and one has been injured by the debris. And Lanky, the naïve idiot, is on the ground. Tattoos is bending over him. He catches Jyn’s eye and shakes his head.

Her gut twists. No. Out of all of them, did it have to be Lanky? The only one with any claim to innocence; the only one who actually, truly, deserved to survive this war?

Something inside her shuts down. It’s a sensation she recognises, but not one that’s happened for a long time. Feelings are not going to be helpful right now so she refuses to feel, collecting her blaster and helping the injured prisoners along the passageway.

In hindsight, she can’t recollect the journey back to the ship. She’s aware that it happens, of course, that she keeps walking forward and shoots down any troopers that come across their path. But it’s not until she’s sitting on one of the benches and they’re flying away that her brain starts working again, and then it goes into overdrive.

She’s not the only one still processing. Once he’s satisfied that the prisoners are comfortable, Tattoos rounds on her.

‘What the fuck was that?’

‘Hey,’ Cassian steps in, touching Tattoos’s elbow to divert his attention. ‘That’s my wife you’re talking to.’

‘Oh yeah, your _wife._ Otherwise known as Jyn Erso. I heard what that guy called her, you think I can’t put it together?’

Cassian’s expression is tight. ‘It isn’t like that.’

‘Really? ‘Cause to me it looks like you’re protecting her ‘cause she’s fucking you.’

Jyn’s still staring at the floor. She should really say something, defend herself, but she’s struggling to see the point.

Lanky was just a kid. Could have been Luke, or even Bodhi, a couple of years ago in a different galaxy. He’s the sort of a kid she as an adult is meant to protect. Look out for. Not get blown up.

‘I’d stop there if I were you,’ Cassian says icily.

‘I’m sorry, _sir,’_ Tattoos spits, ‘which version do you prefer? That you’re harboring Jyn Erso or that your wife nearly got us all killed?’

Somebody could hear him. Somebody  _will_ hear him, if he gets back to the base still ranting like this.

‘People die on missions. It happens. It’s nobody’s fault.’

‘She let the man go! We had a hostage and – ’

‘ _We_ let him go,’ Cassian interrupts. ‘That’s on us.’

Tattoos shakes his head. ‘She must have been a pretty great fuck to have you whipped like this.’

‘Sit _down_ ,’ Cassian hisses. ‘Shut up and sit down.’

Tattoos doesn’t move. ‘Or what?’

Cassian grabs his shoulders and forces him down, until he’s sitting on the bench opposite Jyn.

‘I am your superior officer,’ Cassian snarls. ‘I am the captain of this mission and I am telling you to shut up. If I hear so much as the slightest rumour of what you’re insinuating I will make your life hell. Do you understand?’

Tattoos stares at him and then looks at the ground. ‘Yes sir.’

Still glaring, Cassian comes over to Jyn. When he speaks, his voice has dropped into a softer and quieter tone.

‘You okay?’

She should have died when she was Lanky’s age. She’d started having the courtyard vision by then, even if she hadn’t resigned herself to it yet. It terrified her the first few times, as it would any sensible person. If she’d died then, it would have save a lot of people a lot of trouble. And god knows how many would still be alive.

‘I’m fine,’ she snaps. ‘Look after the prisoners, they need it more.’

It’s unfair, just when he’s defended her, when he’s continued to put himself on the line for her. But if he’s going to know her, he may as well know all of her: that she is a bitch and in the end the only skin she will save is her own. It’s always been that way; it’s had to be.

Maybe he does know her, because he moves on without arguing. It’s been a shit mission for him too. First assignment back and half the people he was supposed to save were blown up.

She sits there, still numb. Opposite, Tattoos is scowling at the floor. She considers joining Bodhi, but he’s copiloting with K2 and no fucking way. Better stick to internalizing everything, that way she’s not going to embarrass herself and go to pieces in front of everyone.

 

Mon Mothma isn’t around when they return, so Cassian delivers his report to Princess Leia. Jyn goes with him, anxious to escape the buzz surrounding the returned prisoners and unwilling to return to their room.

It’s the first time she’s seen Leia up close. She can’t help but think about how old she seems. Leia’s so experienced, so authoritative. You can tell she was born into – raised into, whatever – power, it comes to her so naturally. Jyn wants to protect her, take the responsibilities from her shoulders and let her have some of the levity that Luke has. Yet at the same time she wouldn’t dare to presume she could. Leia’s too young to have to handle anything, but she is handling it superbly.

Jyn stays quiet during most of the debrief. It’s only when Cassian’s describing the Imperial officer that she steps forward, interrupting.

‘Krennic,’ she says, speaking to Leia and not Cassian. ‘It was Orson Krennic.’

The Princess frowns. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Completely.’

‘You know him?’

 _He was like my evil uncle._ ‘We have history.’

Leia studies her for a minute. Then she nods. ‘Thank you.’

Jyn waits until Cassian’s finished his report to leave. They walk back to their room together, all the things she would like to say bubbling up and filling her throat until the only thing she can do is concentrate on breathing.

‘You didn’t recognise him in the vision,’ Cassian says finally, closing the door behind them.

‘It’s been a long time.’

‘But he remembered you.’

I suppose I’m a memorable person.’

‘Must have been pretty bad.’ And, thank fuck, he leaves it there. Doesn’t add that he’s never seen her freeze up like that or make any mention of what the consequences were.

‘I am sorry,’ she makes herself say. The words are almost painful to say, but that’s good. Even if he’s going to offer her an easy way out she ought to pay. ‘I should have – ’

‘Don’t,’ he says. It seems to hurt him, too, but she ploughs ahead anyway.

‘It’s just, this is what I do. Put people in danger. And then they get hurt.’

‘You can’t control that. It’s always going to happen.’

‘No. Don’t make excuses for me. I did know better.’

‘Don’t think about what he said. He’s wrong, Jyn.’

It still feels odd when he uses her real name. Far more so than when he called her Lianna. Maybe because she’s unused to hearing her name pronounced in any tone other than hostility. She’s fucked up, that’s not new.

‘You don’t have to defend me to me.’

‘I’m not going to let you run yourself into the ground.’

‘Why not? We’re not _actually_ married. You’re my cover, not my boyfriend. Or have you forgotten?’

His face closes off. ‘My mistake.’

‘Don’t make it again.’ She goes into the refresher to change into sleeping clothes. When she emerges, he’s already in bed.

Jyn turns out the light and climbs in, lying on her side so that she’s facing away from him. All she can do is close her eyes and imagine a world where Jyn Erso died long ago, Cassian Andor was never married and a tall kid in the Rebel Alliance lived to see thirty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long, and I am so sorry. I really am. University is a time consuming thing. 
> 
> I had another look at my outline, and I'd say we've got four or five chapters to go. I'd definitely say not more than five. It feels really weird that we're actually quite close to the end? I've only just got used to this being a regular thing.
> 
> To everyone who's commented on this fic: thank you so much, you're all wonderful. I love hearing about which bits people liked and if you feel awkward commenting or don't know what to say, just hearing that you liked it is really great too. 
> 
> Have a good day!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘I need a favour,’ she tells him. ‘It’s a big one.’
> 
> He leans against the doorframe, casual but with an uneasy curiosity. ‘Go on.’

Jyn wakes up angry without remembering why. Then the previous day floods in again and she angles her head to look over at Cassian’s half of the bed. It’s empty, but a second later she registers the sound of the shower.

Not wanting to let a moment of possible privacy pass her by, she rises and dresses quickly to be out of the room before he’s done in the refresher. At some point during the small hours of the morning she went from pissed off and listless to pissed off and plotting. A couple of times it sounded like Cassian was awake too, but neither of them acknowledged it. What would there have been to say?

She walks down to the canteen, reasoning that she can grab breakfast before the others arrive and so avoid awkward conversation. There’s not too much risk of running into anyone, it’s earlier than they usually meet and Chirrut is the only morning person among them. As he always waits for Baze to grumpily join the land of the conscious, she should be fine.

The canteen itself is almost empty, just a few people here and there. She runs into Luke Skywalker when she’s getting food; he’s in the queue ahead of her. He’s with Leia and a man with scruffy brown hair, but the two of them are bickering so incessantly that he can’t get a word in edgewise. He catches Jyn’s eye and smiles.

‘Morning.’

‘Morning,’ she says, trying to focus on him and not his sister. It’s weird to see Leia like this, relaxed and unprofessional and _flirting_.

‘How’s it going?’ Luke asks, as they load food onto their trays. Ahead of them, Leia and the brown-haired man head off to find a table.

‘Who’s the guy?’

‘Oh, that’s Han.’ He stifles a sigh. ‘I like him, but he and Leia are a bit much right now.’

‘So I see.’

‘I get it, Han’s hot. But not my type. You get what I mean.’

The luxury of even having a type of beyond her, but that would be new levels of pathetic to say. She nods instead.

‘Do you want to sit with us? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.’

It would probably be intruding to say yes, when her relationship with Leia is very much a professional one. Plus, friendliness seems to be Luke’s thing. (Friendliness and amazing flying skills, if you listen to Bodhi.) And, having seen Leia and the man who must be the smuggler, Jyn is starting to get an idea.

‘No thanks,’ she says, ‘I, uh, need to do something.’

‘What about breakfast?’ Luke looks pointedly at her tray. She follows the line of his gaze and realises she has no desire to eat any of it.

‘I’m not hungry,’ she says, well aware that it makes no sense when she was loading her plate eagerly a moment ago. ‘I’ll – leave it here for someone else.’

She puts it down with a clang and hurries from the canteen. Lying awake that night, she’d been thinking of strategies to get herself assigned on a mission to find Krennic. That’s how domesticized she’s become, waiting to see how she can play by the rules. But Leia didn’t bother with that, she saw Luke in a vision and went ahead in getting somebody to find him.

Jyn pauses in the corridor outside the canteen. She’s going to have to locate Krennic first; it’s unlikely he stayed on Wobani after their encounter. The Alliance is sure to have kept a tab on his movement, she just needs to find his file.

And that’s easier said than done. She doesn’t have anything like the kind of clearance she’ll need to access that information. She’s not even totally sure where it is. Maybe she can ask Cassian, without telling him everything. She can say she wants to read up on Krennic’s past, familiarize herself with what he’s been up to since he murdered her mother.

God, she’s still soft. She’s become to used to being dependent on Cassian she’s forgotten how to do anything. She’s _Jyn Erso_ ; she can steal things easy as breathing, especially when she’s had the past few weeks to acclimatize to the Alliance’s security measures. The harder part is going to be finding a pilot. Cassian would be the obvious choice, but he would never do it and she would never ask him. It’s going to have to be somebody else.

 

 

‘Bodhi! Morning.’

‘Lianna.’ He opens his door wider. ‘What is it?’

‘I need a favour,’ she tells him. ‘It’s a big one.’

He leans against the doorframe, casual but with an uneasy curiosity. ‘Go on.’

‘I need you to fly me to Naboo. And you can’t tell anybody about it.’

He takes a step backward. ‘You’re going to have to tell me more than that.’

It spills out of her, the parts that she can say. About Krennic, about being haunted by him, about needing to be the one who kills him. About the files she’s just downloaded that tell her where he’s gone to recuperate after being shot in the foot.

‘Okay,’ Bodhi says, when she’s close to finishing. ‘The vibes I’m getting are you-should-tell-your-husband-ones.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Because he’ll stop you?’

‘Yes. I know he means well, but this is something I need to do.’

‘I think he’d understand that.’

‘I can’t take that risk.’

He hesitates. ‘You want me to lie to him, then?’

‘Just once. If he’s angry, it’ll be with me.’ She can see he’s still uncertain, so she presses further. ‘If you won’t, I can find somebody else. But I thought you’d get it. There’s the Rebellion, and that’s important. But it’s not everything.’

‘All right.’ He looks down. ‘I’ll do it. Cassian will kill me, but I’ll do it.’

‘Thanks.’ _I appreciate it._

‘Naboo, huh?’

‘Yeah. Here’s the datapack with Krennic’s location.’ If she’s going to trust him to take her, she’s got to be able to trust him with this. ‘How soon can we leave?’

He opens the file, humming to himself as he sorts through it.

‘After breakfast,’ he says. ‘I’ll find a ship to commandeer. You’re going to get us both into a lot of trouble, Lianna.’

‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but trouble is kind of my thing.’

He nods, slowly. She made the right decision coming to him. Not just because he’s the only other pilot she knows, but because he doesn’t quite fit into the framework of the Alliance either. They’ve got an understanding that Cassian’s never going to fathom, not when he’s able to commit himself so fully to the Resistance.

‘You want to get breakfast?’ she asks.

‘Yeah. Good idea.’

Somehow, walking down to the canteen again having just made plans to go on a renegade mission feels stranger than stealing files to make said renegade mission possible. Bodhi keeps fidgeting; he may as well stick a sign to his forehead that says HIDING SOMETHING. His anxiety is prompting Jyn’s own nerves, which really isn’t helpful when she’s supposed to be the calm one.

At least worrying about if the others have noticed means that she’s not fixating on the plan itself. She only came up with it half an hour ago and it’s about as watertight as a net. There will be time to figure out details on the way.

It’s a weird breakfast. Baze is complaining about his new next-door neighbour, who apparently likes to work out loudly early in the morning. Chirrut interjects occasionally to say that the grunts of exertion really aren’t that loud, but for the most part he lets his husband grumble.

Cassian sits opposite Jyn. She’s not sure who ignored the other first, but neither of them has made eye contact. He seems more tired than pissed off, which in a way is worse because it implies he doesn’t have the energy to talk to her.

(Actually, fuck that. She’s never had the energy for anything but is made to wade through it anyway. He can manage.)

Bodhi is still awkwardly bouncing from one topic for another. She should time him one day and see how much he can say in thirty seconds. Every time he pauses, though, she gets worried that he’s going to lose his nerve and start confessing. It’s that that prompts her to clear her throat and say,

‘I heard Luke Skywalker’s into guys.’

It has the desired effect, Bodhi’s sentence trails off and then he’s talking again at a million miles a minute on a very different topic, one that should keep him occupied for a while.

‘I mean, we could be friends,’ he says, glancing around anxiously to make sure they’re not being overheard. ‘And then see where it goes, right? That’s what you’re meant to do.’

‘You’re asking the wrong person,’ she says.

‘You and Cassian were friends first though, right?’

‘Yeah.’ She answers without looking at either of them. ‘It sounds like you and Luke already get along. You’ve got stuff in common. Like flying and complaining about sand.’

‘I like sand,’ Bodhi says. ‘Just not in engines.’

They manage to conclude breakfast without any other awkward pauses. Cassian leaves without saying anything to her, Baze announces he and Chirrut are going for a walk and Bodhi heads off to find a suitable ship to commandeer.

Jyn goes back to their room. She’s going to need combat gear and to make use of the spare blaster Cassian keeps in his underwear drawer. By the time he notices it’s missing, she’ll be well away.

Even though she’s spent plenty of time in the room by herself, it feels odd now. Perhaps it’s the process of checking she has everything and being reminded that barely anything here is hers. The room itself never has been. However many times she’s thought of it or spoken of it as theirs, it’s his. She’s just a visitor who’s outstayed her welcome.

It would be good to have a room to herself. Or even a bunk to herself. The bar isn’t high.

She leaves abruptly, without looking round or pausing to reflect. Better to rip it off like a bacta patch – and even then, that’s making a bigger deal than necessary. It’s just a room, Cassian was just a guy and the Rebellion is just a mistake.

 

Bodhi is waiting for her, standing by a ship in the nearest hangar. From his relaxed frame, she gathers that he’s somehow gained permission to go. That, or he’s so nervous that he’s spiralled into a state of calm.

‘All good?’ she asks, surreptitiously scanning the hangar for any other familiar faces.

‘Cassian isn’t here,’ he tells her. ‘Yes, it’s good. I got clearance for a minor recon mission. I didn’t say you’d be coming, but nobody’s going to stop us leaving.’

‘Great.’

‘We can leave in five minutes.’ He nods to the ship. ‘You can get comfortable.’

‘I appreciate this,’ she says, as he follows her inside.

‘Yeah, well, I can’t stop you, so. This way I can make sure you’re all right.’

The image of him protecting her is so amusingly unrealistic that she smiles. He interprets it as gratitude, which is probably for the best.

‘I wish you’d told Cassian, though.’

‘You know I couldn’t. Look, if he’s angry, you can say that I threatened you.’ It’s not so out of character for her and Cassian will know that.

‘He won’t be.’

‘Oh. Okay then.’ Cold, but possibly true.

‘I mean,’ Bodhi hurries to say, ‘he’s not going to be angry. Not properly. He’ll be too relieved that you’re okay.’

She’s going to have to tell him. So far, she’s been putting it off. No, best wait until they’re in the air. Right now, he can still decide not to leave.

‘We can talk about him on the way,’ she says. ‘Can we go?’

‘Yeah. Okay.’ Nodding vigorously, he disappears into the cockpit. She hangs back. She’s got no huge desire to get a last look of Yavin IV; it might have been better than prison but nearly anything would have been.

The engine sputters to life and then they’re moving, lifting up into the air. She can tell when they’re out of the hangar because they suddenly begin to gain altitude. Something strange happens in her chest, a kind of twisting knot. It’s nerves, she’s sure. It’s got nothing to do with the unexpected feeling that she’s running away.

It’s fine. Everything’s fine. She’s going to find Krennic and make him pay for everything he’s done to her family. It’ll be so beautifully ironic, that after murdering both of her parents he’s going to die at her hand.

That thought calms her enough to join Bodhi. They’re far enough away now that she can’t see the Rebel base.

‘You all right?’ he asks, as she takes the co-pilot chair.

‘Yeah.’

‘Good.’

‘I need to tell you something.’ She should wait until they’ve gone further, but the words keep seething inside her and she needs to get them out.

‘That doesn’t sound good.’

‘It’s fine. But you’ve got to swear not to go back on your promise once I tell you.’

‘Okay, it really isn’t good.’

‘Bodhi.’

‘Fine. I swear. You’re giving me grey hairs.’

‘I’m not going to come back with you. I just need dropping on Naboo. That’s it. I’ll find Krennic, do what I need to and then it’ll be business as usual for everybody.’

‘What? Why? You aren’t serious – ’

‘I am. I’ve tried being with the Resistance and it doesn’t work.’

‘And Cassian?’

‘That doesn’t work either.’

‘We’re talking about your _husband_ , here. Marriage is difficult, but you’re not supposed to give up.’

‘We’re too different. He cares. I don’t. It’s not something we can reconcile.’

‘Shouldn’t you at least talk to him, first?’

‘It wouldn’t help. We weren’t married for very long before we were separated.’ Thank god she’s expressed doubts about the relationship before, so this doesn’t seem like it’s out of the blue. She’s done well to build herself a back exit.

‘You didn’t say goodbye to him.’

‘Can we not talk about it?’

‘Even if you leave him, you don’t have to _leave_.’ He’s persistent, unfortunately. ‘What about the rest of us? We like you. Things are better when you’re around.’

‘Are they? What about that kid I got killed yesterday?’ It’s the first time she’s mentioned it aloud.

Bodhi shakes his head. ‘That’s not on you.’

‘That’s not the point. Please. Can we talk about something else?’

There’s a pause while he decides, and then he says, ‘The worst thing happened while I was getting the ship ready.’

Oh thank fuck. ‘What?’

‘Luke came up to say hi and I made a joke about TIE/Ds and I don’t think he got it.’

‘What joke?’

‘Something dumb about _what’s the most organised Imperial ship?_ He thought I was seriously asking.’ Bodhi groans. ‘I might run away, too. How does it work? Do we change our names and find a remote corner of the galaxy?’

‘Remote planets are too easy to find. We’d go somewhere busy.’

‘Really? I was seeing the appeal of a deserted moon. Maybe an island on a deserted moon.’

‘Nah, someone would inevitably show up and drag you back.’

‘Okay. City break. Let’s go.’

‘Luke’s probably embarrassed too.’

‘You think so? Maybe I’ll go back and face him.’

‘Sounds like a plan.’

The flight is easier after that. Jyn’s able to focus on what’s ahead, even if she keeps getting distracted by the knowledge that this is the last time she’ll do anything with Bodhi. She was never supposed to get attached.

It’s not like any of them are reliant on her, though. Bodhi’s got other people to ramble to. And Cassian – well, he’ll be happier with her gone. Sure, he’ll be angry at first, but he’s got to realise he’s better off. He can have the bed to himself and won’t have to spend time faking romantic feelings.

 

It’s midday when they get to Naboo. Jyn has forgotten that Lianna is meant to be from there until Bodhi brings it up.

‘The other side of the planet,’ she hastens to clarify. ‘And I haven’t been there for a while.’

‘I’ve never been,’ he says, ‘but from what I’ve heard it sounds nice.’

It looks nice too, as they’re flying over it. Maybe she’ll hang around on this planet for a while before hitching a ride somewhere else.

They land in a secluded patch, a little way away from a cluster of buildings. According to Krennic’s file, he’s recuperating inside one of them.

Bodhi parks the ship, turns to face her and announces, ‘I’m not leaving.’

‘Yes you are.’ She grabs her things. ‘You swore.’

‘I swore to take you here. I never said I wouldn’t try and talk you out of it.’

‘Not this again. Look, I wish I could come back and it would all be fine and after every bad day we could group hug, but it’s not that simple.’

‘I’m not saying it is. But I don’t think you should give up.’

_What is there to give up on?_

She’s going to have to tell him. It doesn’t matter; it’s the end of it anyway. It’ll be the only way he’ll let her go.

‘Bodhi, Cassian isn’t my husband.’

‘We’ve been through this. Estrangement, it does stuff to people, I know - ’

‘No. I mean, we’re not married. We’ve never been married. I’ve known him only a week longer than I’ve known you.’

Bodhi’s mouth falls open. For once, he’s lost for words.

Pull of all the bacta patch, best not to leave any hanging. ‘My name isn’t Lianna - it’s Jyn. I’m a bounty-hunter and my parents worked for the Empire. I broke out of jail at the same time as Cassian and we made a deal. So you get it; me leaving _does not matter._ He’ll be fine.’

‘He won’t.’

‘How can you know that? You didn’t know who I was.’

‘There were things you weren’t telling me. Yeah, I didn’t guess it was this. Or anything like this. But even if everything else is fake, you can recognise that Cassian does care about you, right? He pretended you were his _wife_ to protect you?’

‘Because I could help him! And the Rebellion! That’s what he cares about, Bodhi. I know you’ve got your little crew going and that’s great, but it’s the Rebellion first for him. The fact that he put up with me proves it.’

‘Why did you go with him? You were out of jail.’

‘I needed him to stay alive. It’s complicated.’ Technically she does still, but she’s ready to forfeit it. Typically ironic; just when she has a chance of escaping the courtyard vision she stops wanting to.

Bodhi chews his lip. ‘All those times you guys held hands, or -’

‘We’re good actors.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Whatever. The point is, I’m going. Thanks for flying me. I appreciate it.’

‘I do you this favour, you can’t do me one and come back?’

‘No. Definitely not.’

‘Did you and Cassian fight?’

‘We didn’t need to.’

He goes silent. ‘I’m going to wait here. You go and shoot the guy. I’ll be here if you decide you need a lift out of here.’

It would be safer for him to leave immediately, but she can see this is the best deal she’s going to get. ‘All right.’

‘Lianna - Jyn.’

‘Yes?’

‘Good luck.’

She leaves quickly and quietly, slipping out of the hatch and running across the stretch of open ground to the tall building at the end. That’s where Krennic’s meant to be. He’ll have security staff, but she’s got nobody to look after and she can take them down.

It’s such a contrast to the previous day. She’s got to run faster, now that Cassian doesn’t has her back, but the upside is that she doesn’t have to worry about anyone else. It’s just her, which is what she’s good at.

After the facility on Wobani, this building’s security is overwhelming. She shoots two stormtroopers before they see her and dodges over their bodies into an entrance. She’s on the clock now, it’s only so long before somebody discovers them and raises the alarm properly. If she doesn’t run into anyone else first.

It’s not really a problem, though. What she’s focusing on is getting to Krennic unhindered and sending him to hell. Once that’s taken care of, whatever happens will happen. She could be seeing Wobani again sooner than she realised.

(And that’s looking at it optimistically. If she weren’t psychic, she’d be convinced that they’re going to kill her.)

It’s careful work, darting through the corridors without being spotted. It’s an old building with a more classical layout, different from the sleek metals of space. But then architecture is a big thing on Naboo; people striving to make things beautiful as well as functional.

She successfully locates Krennic’s room, but the success stops there. She gets through the door to find it devoid of him and full of stormtroopers; at least twenty and more than she can take on unprepared. The door has shut behind her, she’s not going to be able to get out without being shot.

Cursing, Jyn raises her hands. Maybe once they get closer to her she can attack. But they’re too quick, disarming her and putting her in cuffs. She hasn’t encountered competent stormtroopers for quite a while.

It’s more than a little humiliating, being escorted back through the building. She’s much rustier at working alone than she’d realised; she’s never been caught this quickly. It’s not going to last – she’ll find a chance to get away – but it’s still embarrassing.

By the time they’ve reached the ground floor, she’s almost relaxed again. This doesn’t have to be the end of her plan, it’s just a hiccup in it. At least, it’s a hiccup until they come across another squadron of troopers with a prisoner of their own.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. There are not enough expletives in the galaxy.

‘Bodhi!’ she calls, rushing forward despite herself. The troopers on either side catch her and pull her back, but he’s heard and he’s seen her.

‘Jyn!’

 _For fuck’s sake, Bodhi_ , she wants to say. _This is exactly why you were supposed to leave._ They must have spotted the ship. He wasn’t armed; it wouldn’t have been difficult for them to board and drag him off.

The lead troopers of the respective squadrons confer for a moment. Then they turn to the prisoners.

‘Names?’

‘Jyn Erso.’ There’s no point in lying, but she still spits the words.

‘Bodhi Rook.’ His voice is shaking. This is what he ran away from, what he managed to escape. Only for her to bring them to him.

They look her up and down, taking her in. Then they turn to the troops holding Bodhi.

‘Shoot him.’

‘No!’ Jyn rushes forward again. The two stormtroopers on either side of her catch onto her arms and hold her back. They’re stronger than she is. She’s got to get their attention; she can’t lose Bodhi.

‘You need to take me to Krennic,’ she says, her voice impressively steady. ‘He’ll be expecting me. You’ve got to take both of us.’

One of the officers looks at her. She doesn’t have to be able to see through his helmet to see that he’s unimpressed.

‘My father was Galen Erso,’ she tries again. Using her name and family as a bargaining chip always makes her feel a bit queasy, but it’s the best thing she has right now. ‘He worked with Krennic. He’ll want to see us unharmed.’

‘We don’t need him.’ The officer turns back around, raising his blaster. Bodhi’s struggling, terrified. He can’t die, not Bodhi, who talks too much and risked his life to leave the Empire. This is not how it’s supposed to happen, he defected, he’s meant to be free from them.

Jyn throws herself against the troopers holding her, but there’s too many of them. She’s fighting tooth and nail, but it’s not enough. The realisation paralyses her. She can’t get through, she can’t save him, she can’t –

A blaster bolt whizzes through the air and hits the officer. Others quickly follow, taking out some of the other troopers.

‘Jyn!’ It’s Cassian, running towards them with K2 behind him. She doesn’t know how or why they’re here, but they’re the best thing she’s seen in her life.

The other troopers are recovering. She attacks the nearest one, winding him and taking back her confiscated blaster. Armed again, she shoots the two still holding Bodhi. The half a dozen remaining flee.

Bodhi’s clearly in shock. He’s standing stock still, muttering to himself. When she gets closer, she can make out the words.

‘They almost shot me. They almost – ’

‘Bodhi.’ She touches his arm, gently. ‘You’re all right. You hear me? You’re all right?’

‘We should go.’ Cassian has reached them. He looks furious, but she can’t tell if he’s genuinely angry or just distraught.

‘You should go,’ she says, meeting his eyes for the first time since the previous night. ‘Take him and get out of here. I’ve got things to do.’

He makes up his mind. ‘I’ll come.’

‘No, Cassian – ’

‘The probability of our survival decreases every five seconds,’ K2 interjects.

‘K, get Bodhi back to the ship and wait for us,’ Cassian orders. ‘If you get surrounded, leave us. We’ll find another way.’

 _We._ After everything, he’s still including her in that.

‘Cassian, no.’

‘You’re going to kill Krennic, right? Let me help.’ He says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Something swells up inside her, an emotion that she can’t put a name to. She doesn’t deserve him, has never deserved him: the stupid, loyal, Alliance captain.

‘Okay,’ she says. ‘All right.’

His expression barely changes, but he nods. ‘K, get Bodhi to the ship.’

The order feels redundant a moment later, as a volley of blaster bolts from the right sends them all running in the same direction. Being by herself really didn’t last.

Another squadron appears up ahead. Someone has clearly noticed that they’re here.

‘Split up!’ Cassian shouts, grabbing Jyn’s shoulder and pulling her off to one side. K2 and Bodhi take the opposite direction, Bodhi sprinting at full speed and K2 clanking after him.

The walkway Jyn and Cassian are on runs down the side of another building. She ought to be paying attention to where they’re going, but all she can process is the sound of their shoes against the stone floor. K2’s looking after Bodhi now, they should be all right. It doesn’t matter that she couldn’t save him, he’s all right.

She doesn’t see the row of columns until they’re looming up before her. And then, it takes her a good thirty seconds to realise why they’re familiar.

Jyn skids to a halt, stopping in front of the nearest one. Their pursuers aren’t too close and she knows from too much experience that other troopers are nearby. She stretches out her hand to brush against the cream stone. It’s actually here. She’s touched it so many times and yet this is the first time she’s actually felt it.

There’s the sound from a little way away and she dodges over to behind the next column. It’s a sequence she knows only too well and it’s happening now.

She’s not as scared as she thought she’d be. Perhaps it just hasn’t hit her yet. Is she usually more worried than this? Was she last time?

‘Jyn!’ Cassian calls. She turns her head, he’s crouching behind his own pillar. ‘You go, I’ll cover you!’

And this is it. Never has she ever wanted to do anything less, but never has she ever had a choice about it.

She runs out into the courtyard, onto the familiar sand. There’s the fountain, somehow smaller and uglier than it seemed before. She shoots two stormtroopers, missing the third. She barely has to think about the movement, it’s so practised. She’s nearly at the other side now; if she’s going to die it will be here. She’s been apathetic about her life in the last twenty-four hours, but now she’s fucking terrified.

It’s going to happen, she’s going to die, she’s going to fucking die –

She doesn’t. The shot isn’t fired. She’s memorised the sequence, the most recent vision can’t wipe out the years that came before it. But that’s the vision that happens; her boots have hit stone and she’s on the other side and safe.

Air rushes into her lungs. She’s through it. It’s over. And she’s still standing.

Then there’s the sound of a shot, five seconds too late. That’s okay, stormtroopers can be idiots sometimes, it doesn’t mean anything.

As if to prove the point to herself, she ducks around the column to look. She’s never seen the courtyard from this angle before, it feels wrong on some profound level. The euphoric side of adrenaline is hitting her now, everything is obsolete now that _she made it._

The victory dies a second later. Lying in the middle of the sand, his limbs splayed out from running, is Cassian. There’s a single blaster wound on his back and he’s not moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I though I edited most of this on Saturday, I made a point of not (finishing) uploading until Sunday so that this chapter didn't seem like an April Fool.
> 
> Second, I stole the TIE/D joke from my little brother. He's funnier than I am.
> 
> Third - well, if you read the tags, you knew this was coming.
> 
> As always, if you liked this chapter or have any questions, let me know in a comment or [on Tumblr.](http://www.betweentheheavesofstorm.tumblr.com) And as I haven't got any idea when the next chapter will be, feel free to pop into my inbox to ask how it's going/when it can be expected.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She screams, Cassian’s name ripping from her mouth, and sees Bodhi glance up. There’s a hopeless moment where they lock eyes and she knows he’s seeing his grief on her face.

Jyn stares. There is a faint buzzing in her ears and no air in her lungs; she’s forgotten to inhale. He’s all right, he’s going to get up, this is all some mistake. There’s still no oxygen, like she’s dived underwater without taking a breath first. She can’t breathe until he does, until he shows her that he’s –

Bodhi sprints into the courtyard. He must have heard the shot, or maybe he could see it from where he was. He’s reached Cassian and is touching him, shaking him, calling out to him. And nothing.

It’s Bodhi’s face – even more terrified than when he thought he was going to die – that reaches Jyn. Air shudders down her throat and into her lungs, forcing life back into her body and choking her.

She splutters and suddenly there’s a hand on her shoulder yanking her back. She didn’t notice the stormtroopers appear, her attention was directed forwards. They tear the blaster from her hands and pull her back, away from the courtyard and the people in it.

Animation returns to her body and she fights, tooth and nail, as if everybody she’s ever met is on the line. It’s wilder and more vicious than her usual style; she’s grappling with no thought to her own preservation. She’s fighting as if she could save Cassian just by getting to him.

It’s her anger that betrays her. One of the troopers winds her in an obvious move that she should have seen coming and two others grab onto her arms. She can’t throw them off, they’re dragging her with them.

She screams, Cassian’s name ripping from her mouth, and sees Bodhi glance up. There’s a hopeless moment where they lock eyes and she knows he’s seeing his grief on her face.

Jyn goes numb. She stops resisting and the troopers half tug, half carry her backwards. Cassian’s dead. They were supposed to kill her and got him instead. That’s why she survived, not because she somehow deserved to but because somebody good died in her place. She should have known the courtyard was always going to claim a victim.

They take her aboard a shuttle, cuffing her hands and then letting go of her arms. Without anything to support her weight, she collapses in a heap on the floor of the ship. At the edge of her field of vision she sees the stormtroopers confer with an officer and a few minutes later the shuttle begins to move.

She stays where she is. A handful of troopers stand by her, no doubt on watch for any hijacking attempts. They needn’t bother, Jyn couldn’t move if she wanted to.

Fucking visions. This kind of thing has happened before, where they haven’t shown her the whole scene, but never anything on this scale. The vision of her death has played with her head since she first saw it and she’s getting the impression that it’s going to stay with her for a while yet.

Wait. They could be useful. She can see the fucking future; she can look forward and check that Cassian’s gone. Maybe her shock clouded her judgement and she’ll have a vision of him recovering in the medbay.

Steadying herself, she shuts her eyes and tries to conjure something. Summoning visions is always more difficult than letting them happen, but it’s always been possible. She used to do it when she was bored in prison. This is the first time she’s tried to centre it on a person. She focuses on Cassian, the way he looked at her when they first met and how he gradually relaxed around her.

Nothing. Not the slightest glimmer of a vision or the smallest pang of nausea. Her mind is as numb as her body; it resists her attempts to control it.

She doesn’t know how long she’s in the shuttle, whether it’s minutes or hours. Nobody’s made any mention of their destination and she has no desire to ask. After this indefinite period of time, they arrive and dock at a Star Destroyer.

The troopers pull her to her feet, straightening out her stiff legs and making her stand on tingling feet. She regains balance after a few strides and is able to carry herself the rest of the way to a holding cell. She’s never been in one before, but it evokes an ancient familiarity. No doubt she saw one as a child.

The stormtroopers are clearly anxious to get rid of her; they shove her in and close the door without removing her cuffs. Do they know who she is, or did they just see what she was capable of on Naboo?

Slumping onto the bench, she listens to the lock click shut. Automatically, her eyes run across the door assessing its thickness and strength. It seems nothing can unlearn years of escape strategies.

Even if she could get out of this room, what would the point be? She’d never get off the ship without a pilot and even then her chances would be dubious. And to extend her train of thought further, what would she do if she did escape? The rest of her life is suddenly yawning in front of her, an abyss she’d given up on years ago. She’s always had the luxury of assuming her life would end at a certain point. Even after the time she had the vision with Cassian her life was still building up to that point. Now…what now?

She couldn’t go to his funeral. The idea makes her slightly sick, the first thing she’s felt since it happened. If she went to the funeral she would be expected to speak and she would have absolutely nothing to say. The others would be there, the people who actually loved him. Bodhi and Baze and Chirrut and K2. How could she go and stand beside them and pretend to be the grieving widow? She owes Cassian – and them – more than that.

But wait, no, none of them believe the Lianna story anymore. Chirrut and Baze have always known and she told Bodhi, who will by now have told K-2SO. They all know that their friend died defending a bounty-hunter, not his wife. If she went back now, K2 would kill her.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. She’s not going to get through the door and off the ship. As far as the Resistance is concerned, both the Andors have perished. And in a way, they have.

Whatever happens now, will happen to Jyn Erso.

 

Stormtroopers come for her after a while. Once again, she has no idea of how long it is. There’s no visible way to mark the time passing and her mind is not in its clearest state.

They walk her down the corridor to the end, into a room she’d heard of but never set foot in. Stories about Imperial interrogations fill the galaxy, ranging between those who considered it a cop-out and those who never recovered.

Her cuffs are removed and she’s strapped down. Even in her state of apathy, she braces her arms against the restraints. They’re definitely strong enough. She tilts her head in time to see another door open and Orson Krennic walk through.

He walks a slight limp, she has the satisfaction of noting, and is accompanied by an IT-O interrogation droid. His steely eyes hone in on her; he approaches until he’s no more than a foot away. She has to resist the urge to struggle; her body is reacting with a visceral disgust.

‘Oh Jyn,’ Krennic says. He doesn’t sound angry – more disappointed, as if she were an impertinent child or disobedient soldier. ‘Jyn, Jyn.’

‘Krennic,’ she replies, cold.

‘You used to call me Orson,’ he muses, reaching out to brush a strand of her hair out of her eyes. It takes an enormous effort not to flinch away.

‘And you murdered my mother in front of me.’

‘That was unfortunate,’ he admits. ‘But running off to the Alliance? Getting married? I’m hearing all sorts of things about you.’

‘Afraid I can’t say the same. How’s your foot doing?’

His expression doesn’t waver. ‘I was surprised to hear about your marriage. After what had happened in your life, I would have thought it impossible.’

She stays silent.

‘I kept tabs on you, of course. Not that it was difficult; you made quite a name for yourself. I was disappointed you became a bounty-hunter, but it wasn’t shocking. This husband must be something special; I’m astonished you’re capable of trusting anybody at this stage.’

If he’s really been following her, does he know she was using a fake name in the Alliance? And if he does, he’s got to know that her marriage was part of that cover. Admitting that it was fake means confirming he’s right – that she’s incapable of forming that kind of relationship. But if she doesn’t, that suggests she’s trying to use the lie to prove him wrong, and that’s a level of pathetic even she won’t stoop to.

‘He’s not – he wasn’t my husband.’

‘Past tense?’

‘He’s dead.’ Krennic already knew, she realises. He just wanted to hear her say it.

‘So you weren’t married?’

‘He was my cover.’

‘That does explain a lot.’ He shakes his head, sadly. ‘Your father would be so disappointed. His brilliant daughter, a bounty-hunter. Wasting your talents.’

‘You don’t get to decide what he’d think,’ she says, momentarily losing composure. ‘You killed him.’

‘I never wanted to,’ Krennic says, as though that absolves him of all blame. ‘He was a good man.’

She looks over him again and notes that he’s older than she previously registered. His hair is almost entirely grey and age has joined stress in etching lines onto his face. Her father would be similar, if he was still alive.

This has gone on too long.

‘What do you want from me?’

It has the desired effect, reminding him that this is an interrogation first and foremost. He takes a couple of steps back and clears his throat.

‘Information on the Rebel headquarters. Its location, size and defences.’

‘And if I don’t?’

He nods towards the IT-O. He doesn’t need to say anything; she’s heard enough about them.

Jyn opens her mouth to tell him, but something gets in the way. It isn’t the image of Cassian, all the many times he’s helped her, but the others. The Resistance isn’t just a swath of faces anymore, it’s Baze and Chirrut softly bickering, it’s Bodhi showing time and time again that he’s her friend – it’s Princess Leia relaxing enough to tease her newfound brother. She’s sold out plenty of people to save her skin before, but they were never people she’d eaten breakfast with or who’d decided to help her even when they knew who she was.

‘No,’ she says.

His eyebrows rise. ‘Are you more of a rebel than I thought?’

‘It doesn’t matter what I am.’ She gets it now, what Bodhi said about it being bigger than them and that being comforting.

‘But you believe in their cause?’

It’s still the longest of shots, thinking that they can defeat the Empire from half a dozen hidden corners of the galaxy. But who is she to sneer at bad odds? She escaped her cell, found a hangar, found a ship, found a pilot, got out of prison and received amnesty in under a week. And Cassian, for all his faults, deserves her respect.

‘I believe in them.’

Krennic just sighs again. She wants to tear his throat out. He gestures to the IT-O to take over and Jyn steels herself. She can take it. She’ll have to.

You can discover a lot about life, she finds, when you’re being tortured. It’s something about being subjected to more physical pain than she’s ever previously endured, as a droid asks her questions and the man who destroyed her family watches on. It feels terrible. It feels like every nerve in her body is burning and the only way to stop it is to die. She can’t move; her teeth are clenched so tightly they might never come apart.

It’s not the worst she’s ever felt. It’s not even close. Cassian lying in the sand – Cassian dead – not being able to reach him, not even after she killed him – that is worse. Even the memory of that scene tears through her, shredding her insides.

She was never supposed to care about him; he was just the pilot, just her cover, a Rebel who’d made himself useful. But he was warm to sleep next to and his hand in hers was so familiar and she is never going to kiss him again, whether she means it or not.

(She does. She did. He might have, but that means nothing now. She killed him and that’s all there is to it. She should have learned by now not to love people; it always has a dire effect on their health.)

There’s a high-pitched noise, it takes her a moment to realise her jaw has come unstuck and it’s her own screaming.

 

Jyn wakes up back in the holding cell. She must have passed out. It annoys her that her body is weak and shivery; she curls her hands into fists and sits with her knees tucked against her chest. She refuses to be vulnerable, even when there is no one to see her.

She has much bigger things to worry about, but even so her mind keeps circling back to the same question.

Did Cassian…?

He must have. Why else would he keep lying for her? Why else would he come after her? She wasn’t imagining it; there was something in the way he looked at her, at the fact that he _kissed_ her. They had an ease, a naturalness, as though she was really Lianna and had known him all these years.

It’s a bit fucking late to realise this. If it had come to her yesterday – god, if she had figured this out yesterday she would have everything right now. Maybe she could have avoided the courtyard altogether.

Now what does she have? The vision has been and gone, taking its promise of a bolt with it. She doesn’t have a rest of a life. It could have been Cassian. That’s the stupid thing. He could have been it.

Jyn stares at the opposite wall, bundling her grief into a container and slamming it shut. It’s more difficult than before; it’s seeped into the softer parts of her. She rips it out, promising to mourn Cassian and what they could have had later. She _will,_ she’s better than she was before, she will but she cannot right now.

If he had lived, she might have grown into somebody good, fuelled by something kinder. But he didn’t, so she will fall back on the hatred that has kept her alive this long. She is what the galaxy has made her, so the galaxy will have to deal with her.

There’s only one way this can end: in Krennic’s body or in hers. He has taken person after person from her and she’s never hit back. He’s mentioned disappointment that she turned to such an underhand career; she can show him how much he should regret it.

 

She is lying the bench when Krennic returns, a few hours later. It’s his pride that’s endangering him; he shouldn’t approach her until he’s secure. But he’s always too confident and he thinks she’s broken.

‘Still unconscious?’ he says, either to her or the room at large. The parental tone he uses to address her has vanished completely; he could be talking about any prisoner.

He’s definitely accompanied by a couple of troopers, she could hear their footsteps and he’s not _that_ stupid. He has to be standing in front of them, though, judging from where his voice was coming from.

Jyn’s eyes snap open. He’s a couple feet to the left of where she thought he was, but that’s not a problem. She’s still got surprise on her side.

She rolls off the bench and hurls herself at him, punching him in the stomach and wrapping her arm around his neck. He shouts and the Deathtroopers raise their weapons, but she’s holding him in front of her body.

It all happens very quickly. Krennic shifts, trying to throw her off. He’s still in relatively good shape and she’s just been tortured, but she is a lot younger and angrier and more desperate than him. She grabs both sides of his head and yanks, violently, snapping his neck.

He crumples and she lets go. For a few heartbeats she and his troopers just look at him, reduced to a body in a white cloak. Then she runs at them, dodging their attempts to grab them and past them into the passageway. Her heart is beating in her ears and her entire body aches, but there’s a brutal euphoria that keeps her going.

It was so quick. She’s done it hundreds of times and it always hits her how fast it is, over before she’d really processed it was happening. Perhaps because it’s always part of a larger physical movement. It’s not like firing a blaster, where you make the decisions to aim and fire, this is tied up in one fluid motion.

She’s still going. Her footsteps are too loud on the polished floor; somebody else is going to hear. The Deathtroopers may already have called for back-up, she’ll be surrounded any minute. They’ll shoot on sight and she’ll die on a Star Destroyer identical to the ones she grew up on.

She could stop. The thought occurs to her mid-stride and she dismisses it. The instinct to keep running is too strong; in no universe can she wait to be caught. She’s done what she needed to do, that’s what’s important.

The decision doesn’t matter a moment later; stormtroopers are filling the corridor ahead and from the heavy footsteps there are some behind her, too. Jyn skids to a stop, her eyes running across the row of identical helmets. She’s spent enough time being outnumbered recently to recognise when she is.

The stormtroopers raise their blasters in unison. For the first time in thirty-six hours, it bothers her that her life is in danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it's been a while, again. 
> 
> Good news, though, in terms of scheduling: I can definitively say there will be two more chapters after this.   
> (But when will they be uploaded? Nobody knows least of all me.)
> 
> If you enjoyed this chapter, please do let me know in a comment and if I haven't updated for a while feel free to send me an ask [on Tumblr](http://www.betweentheheavesofstorm.tumblr.com)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the time it takes the first bolt to miss her, her mind has gone through ten strategies. One: blindly charge and try to disarm someone; two: attempt surrender; three: try and get shot somewhere unimportant and then play dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is so late!

They don’t pause before firing. Jyn was half expecting them to, unconsciously counting on that heartbeat of appraisal as they size her up. But they have orders to fire on sight and the appearance of one desperate Rebel isn’t enough to put them off.

In the time it takes the first bolt to miss her, her mind has gone through ten strategies. One: blindly charge and try to disarm someone; two: attempt surrender; three: try and get shot somewhere unimportant and then play dead.

The second bolt hits her before she’s able to decide. She’s very fortunate: it only catches the right hand side of her ribcage, but that’s still enough to knock her off balance. Her hand flies to the wound; it isn’t dangerous but it hurts like hell and significantly decreases her ability of enacting any offensive strategy.

Something hits her left leg and it explodes with pain. She falls to the ground, just able to slam out her palms to protect her face. A fresh wave of panic rolls over her. Any second now, they’ll shoot her in the head and that’ll be it. She can’t move, she can’t even get up, and adrenaline is clouding all the strategies she had to mind a second ago. This isn’t how she’s supposed to die. She can’t take Krennic down only to be foiled by _stormtroopers._ The universe owes her better than that.

She tries to get up again, but as soon as she puts weight on her leg it burns so badly that it won’t hold her. Even though the bone doesn’t seem to be broken, it’s so painful it might as well be. Any moment now a trooper will deliver the final shot; they’ve no need to rush now they’ve got her floundering.

There’s a shout from behind her and then what could be the sound of bodies hitting the floor. The troopers ahead of her look up, distracted, and are taken down by a volley of bolts that come flying from over Jyn’s head.

The effect is instantaneous. The remaining stormtroopers immediately retreat, falling back and taking the imminent threat of death with them. She barely has time to draw a breath in relief when someone grabs her and hauls her up.

With her remaining strength, Jyn jabs out her elbow into their chest, breaking out of their grip and stumbling forwards. She doesn’t make it very far; pain shoots up her leg and she falls again, back into a heap. Looking back over her shoulder, she recognises her assailant.

‘Hey,’ Baze says, massaging the spot where she hit him, ‘we’re trying to run a rescue here.’

Baze is here. That makes sense. No, it really doesn’t. _Baze is here?_

‘How – why – ?’ she looks behind him, and there’s Chirrut, standing amidst the bodies of unconscious stormtroopers.

‘We’ll tell you on the way,’ Baze says, moving forwards and offering her a callused hand.

‘They got me in the leg,’ she says, even though he can probably tell.

‘Badly?’

‘If we live it’ll heal and if we don’t it won’t matter.’

‘That’s one way to think about it.’ He wraps her arm around his shoulder and half-carries her along the corridor.

‘There will be more troopers,’ Chirrut says, coming closer and leaning on his staff. ‘How did you get out?’

‘I killed Krennic.’

Baze nods approvingly.

‘How do _we_ get out?’

‘We should continue for five hundred yards and then take a left, then a right,’ says Chirrut. ‘It’s a different path back to the hangar.’

Baze grunts. ‘The next left. Got it.’

Jyn isn’t entirely sure that what follows isn’t some hallucination, brought on by extensive stress and trauma. That she is still alive is improbable enough; that Chirrut and Baze are _here_ and have come for her is impossible. And yet here they are; Baze carrying her like she’s a teammate and a friend, Chirrut rattling off directions about corridors he cannot see.

‘He’s got a better memory than I do,’ Baze says, when she asks about it.

‘What Baze means is that last time he forgot,’ Chirrut smiles. ‘And he’s too embarrassed to talk about it.’

Miraculous as their appearance is, it can’t dispel the cocktail of adrenaline and dread in her stomach. Every time they make a turn she expects to see more stormtroopers or Krennic, magically back. If her friends can return when the odds are so heavily weighted against them, Krennic can too.

And the return is far from plain sailing. They do encounter half a squadron of troopers, which cause Jyn’s insides to do acrobatics. But the others are calm: Baze hanging back while Chirrut strikes.

She’s never actually seen him fight before. She’s heard about it, of course, they all traded stories on Yavin IV about their best moves and lucky calls. But it’s very different to be told that somebody is deadly and to witness it yourself.

It’s a style unlike any she’s seen before. He whips his staff round, jumping and rolling with terrifying precision and somehow able to tell exactly where the stormtroopers will be next. It’s a million miles away from what she does; her brutal mix of punching and slashing just doesn’t compare. He makes it look effortless, too, as if each movement comes naturally and without thinking.

‘How did you find me?’ she asks, mesmerised, as Chirrut gracefully knocks out the last trooper.

‘Bodhi,’ Baze says. ‘He tracked the shuttle.’

Of course. It wasn’t Cassian, it couldn’t be Cassian. ‘Is Bodhi here?’

‘I hope so, or we’ve got no ride home.’

So Bodhi came back for her, when Cassian couldn’t. That’s another debt of loyalty that she’s never going to be able to repay.

‘So you just left?’ she wants to know.

‘Bodhi, again,’ Chirrut says. ‘He sweet-talked Skywalker into getting us clearance.’

Bodhi being suave enough to sweet-talk anyone takes a stretch of imagination, but it’s possible Luke is flattered and/or smitten enough for it to work.

The last stretch is the worst. Somebody must have sounded the alarm, there are more troopers than before. Baze has freed up his other arm to shoot the ones Chirrut can’t get and while the two of them are effective, there are a _lot_ of troopers. It’s so frustrating, being helpless, but it’s still all she can do to keep her breathing regular. The pain from her two wounds is only increasing. It doesn’t hurt quite as much as the torture, but it’s still immobilising.

A bolt whizzes past, too close for comfort, and Baze curses.

‘I’m going to put you down,’ he says, starting to lower her. He’s as gentle as he can, but there’s still a moment of impact when she hits the ground. Pain washes over her again, followed by nausea and a sudden dizziness.

She wonders if she’s about to have a vision moments before blacking out.

 

Jyn’s half surprised to open her eyes.

She trusts Baze and Chirrut, of course. They’re some of the few people she does trust. And she’s got faith in their abilities. It’s just. Star Destroyers are _really_ big and well-staffed. Krennic didn’t live on them because he liked the décor. It’s not unreasonable to have thought they might not have made it.

‘She lives,’ Chirrut says, somewhere above her.

She’s lying on the floor of a ship; she can feel the vibrations from the engine. If they’re on a ship and Chirrut is here – that has to mean that they got away. She blinks. A Chirrut-shaped blob is off to the left, Baze next to him. The walls around them slowly come into focus and are identifiable as a Rebel ship.

‘We’re out,’ she says, half statement and half question.

‘Yep,’ comes Bodhi’s voice, off to the left. She props herself up on her elbows and she can see the top of his head, in the pilot’s seat. It’s a U-wing. And that’s K-2SO in the co-pilot’s chair. Cassian’s U-wing.

‘Chirrut must have done a lot of damage, because we got away,’ Bodhi continues. ‘You okay?’

‘Great.’ After a couple of tries, she manages to sit up. ‘Baze, can you… ? ’

‘You need to rest,’ he grumbles, but he helps her to her feet all the same. Leaning on him, she makes it to the front of the ship and is able to hold onto the back of Bodhi’s chair. They will have time to talk later, but it feels important to say something now.

‘They said you tracked me.’

‘Yeah.’ He nods, staying focused on flying. ‘It wasn’t difficult; it was the only shuttle leaving that area.’

‘I heard you did some persuading. Sounds like Luke forgave the Tie/D joke.’

Now he’s definitely avoiding her eye. ‘Yeah. Well.’

‘And K,’ she says, making herself look at the droid. ‘I’m sorry. I really – I don’t know what to say.’

‘I have been informed I am not to speak to you,’ he responds. It’s no better response than she expected or deserved.

‘I heard you killed Krennic,’ Bodhi says. ‘That’s great.’

‘Yeah.’ It doesn’t feel so great now, but to say so would be ungrateful. ‘Thank you – for coming for me.’

‘You’d have done the same for me. I think.’

‘Yeah. I would have.’

‘All right.’ He glances back at her, for the first time. ‘Where to, then?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You were leaving the Alliance. We brought a medpac, we can patch you up and drop you off somewhere. If it’s what you want, I won’t get in the way.’

She hadn’t thought about that. She’s the freest she’s ever been. The courtyard is over and Krennic is dead; there’s nothing to run from. She can restart, go anywhere, be anyone. The galaxy is stretching before her, she doesn’t have to be Jyn Erso or Liana Andor or even do anything illegal. She’s come out the other side of the courtyard and there’s a future waiting for her.

‘No,’ she says.

‘No?’

‘Take me back to Yavin. I’ll enlist.’

Bodhi takes his eye of the view to stare at her. ‘You mean that? Even though Cassian’s – ’

‘You were right,’ she says, because she can’t hear him finish his sentence. ‘I can do something, so I should. I mean, if Mon Mothma will take me. I don’t think she’ll be too happy about the fake identity.’

‘You killed Krennic, I think she would get over it,’ Chirrut chips in.

‘You’re sure?’ Bodhi asks. ‘You mean this?'

She nods. ‘I’ll join the Resistance – if they’ll have me.’

‘You’re a terrible bounty-hunter,’ a very familiar voice says, behind her, and Jyn’s legs almost give way. She whips around, ignoring her leg’s protests and her heart leaps into her mouth.

It’s him. Looking a little worse for wear – a _lot_ worse for wear – but there and standing and _alive._ Smiling at her, as though to suggest she was an idiot to give up on him so easily.

She throws herself at him, needing to make sure he’s real. With what energy, she doesn’t know, only that the space between them is too big. He stumbles slightly – he’s injured, too – but his body is warm and solid and when she wraps her arms around him she can feel his heart beating.

‘You’re alive,’ she gets out, tilting her head back to meet his gaze.

‘Look who’s talking.’

‘I – ’

And then, because words are too long and complicated, and she was never very eloquent anyway, and he is so beautiful and alive and has come for her – then, she pulls his head down to kiss him.

He’s not surprised this time; if anything, he was expecting it. His lips are warmer than she remembers, pressing urgently against hers, matching her hunger and her grief. What is unsaid is understood, they’re kissing for all those moments when they didn’t and times when they couldn’t. He’s half holding her up, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other on her shoulders. Holding her steady, as he always has.

After a few moments, Chirrut asks, ‘Baze, are they …’

‘Like teenagers.’

‘I thought so.’

Slightly abashed, Jyn pulls away. She could look at him for a hundred years and not get tired of it, not when she thought she never would again.

A thought strikes her and she turns accusingly to Bodhi.

‘Why didn’t you tell me he was alive? You were just going to drop me somewhere – ’

‘I wanted to see if you’d pick the Alliance,’ Bodhi says, twisting round in his seat. His tone is defensive, but he’s standing his ground. ‘For you, not for him.’

‘And if I’d said “yeah, drop me in the Outer Rim?”’

‘I would have said something,’ Cassian assures her. ‘I wasn’t going to let you get away again.’

‘So are you two going to be married for real?’ Bodhi asks. He seems to have given up on flying; presumably K2 has it under control.

‘Easy,’ says Jyn.

‘Are you saying you don’t want to marry me?’ Cassian teases, in that light tone that she’s missed.

‘Are you offering?’

‘No,’ he says, after a pause. ‘But I’m not not-offering.’

‘That’s annoyingly vague,’ Bodhi complains.

‘How bad are you hurt?’ she asks, finally taking weight off her leg to sit down. The endorphins can only stave off the pain for so long and it can’t be good for him to hold her up.

Cassian joins her on the floor. ‘I was lucky. It wasn’t as bad as it looked. What about you?’

‘Leg and here,’ she touches her ribcage lightly. ‘I’m not dying, though.’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t see the troopers on Naboo. It was stupid. I was meant to have your back.’

‘No. You didn’t … it used to be me.’ The secret has been etched on her bones so long she could happily die with it, but he nearly died for her and deserves to know.

‘What did?’

‘I’ve been having a vision of that courtyard for years. I died every time, exactly the same way. And then I met you and you got captured and it happened differently. You were there and I lived. But I didn’t realise it was because they got you instead.’

He nods, slowly. _That must have been terrible_ , his eyes say, and hers respond: _it was, it was._

‘That’s why you wanted amnesty.’

‘It wasn’t just because you’re attractive.’

‘Not even a little bit?’

‘No.’

‘It didn’t help?’

‘It made things worse,’ she says, truthfully. ‘At some point, I was going to leave you.’

Baze snorts. Cassian glances up, remembering the others.

‘Maybe we should continue this conversation another time,’ he says, though as he speaks he takes her hand.

‘All that time we’ve been waiting for you two to sort it out and now we’re unwanted?’ Chirrut shakes his head.

‘They’ve earned a little privacy,’ Baze says, weaving his fingers through his husband’s. ‘Not that you’ll get that on Yavin,’ he adds. ‘People will talk about this for _years.’_

Jyn looks at Cassian. Much worse things have been said about her. _He’s_ said worse things about her. And yet she’s got no interest in running away to restart her life unless he’s going to come.

‘I think we can deal with that.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I have no idea how my writing works. I open the document and stare at it for weeks, and then edit nearly the whole thing in one night.
> 
> So, um, yeah. I'm mean, but I'm not /that/ mean.
> 
> And we have just one chapter left! It feels so weird that it's already the end. I've really enjoyed writing this and you guys are absolutely the best readers.
> 
> Let me know what you thought in a comment or [on Tumblr](http://www.betweentheheavesofstorm.tumblr.com)!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She and Cassian lean on each other on the walk to their room, neither able to fully support themselves or the other. There’s something backwards in that logic, but she’s not about to let go of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is quite a short chapter, it's more of an epilogue.

She’s a lot less fond of Cassian when they get in and he insists they go to the medcenter before anything else. On the way back, he’d cleaned her wounds and applied bacta, but he’s got it into his head that she needs a professional to check her over.

Like she’s the one who’s reckless, when he almost died, she protests, backing it up with how tired she is, really, she just wants to go to bed. But Cassian is immovable and she’s still feeling sentimental enough not to be able to say no to him.

The medical droid doesn’t tell her anything she doesn’t already know, but she does get some pain relief. She hadn’t registered quite how much of her body still hurt until it starts to ebb away, and then she’s hit with a sudden wave of exhaustion.

She and Cassian lean on each other on the walk to their room, neither able to fully support themselves or the other. There’s something backwards in that logic, but she’s not about to let go of him.

Then they’re in their room, with their bed, and they’re falling into it without stopping to undress. Her clothes are grubby and she probably smells and she cannot bring herself to care. Nor does Cassian have any problem with it, pulling the blanket over them and finding her hand.

Jyn lies on her back for a moment, letting herself sink into the mattress. It’s the first time in however many years that she’s had a bed that’s been both hers and one she wants to be in. That combination doesn’t come around often. But then Cassian has been so many firsts that she’s lost count.

‘You all right?’ he murmurs, squeezing her hand.

She turns her head to look at him across the pillow. _I can’t believe we slept with so much space between us_ , she doesn’t say. They had reasons. She had reasons. Some of them good.

‘Yeah,’ she says, scooting closer until she’s nestled up against him. Another day she can fixate on being this close, when she can do unspeakable things to him. Right now, he’s warm and comfortable and when his arm curls around her shoulders she gets the feeling that this is what home is like.

 

Waking up next to Cassian when he was her fake Rebel husband was weird in a kind of nice way. Waking up next to him when he’s her real kind-of boyfriend is a whole new league of strange, the oddest part being how not-strange it is.

(She’s also not sure about the word _boyfriend_. It sounds like they’ve had some formal process of courtship. She may not be the most romantic person, but she’s fairly sure that most couples don’t start out by nearly killing each other. _Partner_ might be better, implying togetherness with less awkward nuances.)

As before, she wakes first. At some point in the night they drifted apart, but only by a foot or so. She props herself up on her elbow to look at him properly, enjoying the chance to do so without being caught. He’s much gentler asleep. His usual composure has eased; you can no longer tell he’s a soldier just by looking.

Is she the same? It would make sense, and yet the number of times she’s slipped from dreams to visions means sleep isn’t always an escape.

Since escaping, the visions have returned. It seemed as if they might have gone, but on the way back she had a brief flash of being in a refresher. It was a relief and frustrating at the same time. On the one hand, seeing the future usually leads to grief of some kind. The courtyard vision is the perfect example. On the other, she’s so used to them that she’s not sure she could navigate her life without them.

Thinking of her vision reminds Jyn she still hasn’t washed. Gently extracting herself from under the blanket, she carefully gets off the bed without disturbing Cassian and heads into the refresher.

A minute later and she’s in the shower, her dirty clothes cast aside into a pile on the floor. The water makes her muscles ache even more and she’s a little worried about the bacta patches soaking off, but it’s a good feeling to be clean.

They haven’t discussed rooms yet, whether they’ll continue to share or if she’ll get her own. The idea of having a space that is just hers is appealing; she won’t deny that. Yet at the same time she’s so accustomed to being around Cassian, she’s not ready to give that up yet.

She stays in the shower until the space starts to feel too small. She’s never really been claustrophobic, but it might be a result of her recent imprisonment. The walls are starting to press in on her; she turns the water off, grabs a towel out of the drawer and hurries out.

‘Morning.’ Cassian’s awake, still in bed and blinking blearily. A second later, he registers that she’s only wearing a towel and his eyes snap open. ‘ _Morning.’_

‘And you,’ she says, turning her back on him to open her drawer. Behind her, there’s the sound of a blanket being pushed aside and then he’s standing there, his hand hovering a couple of inches above her shoulder.

‘Yes?’ Jyn turns, keeping the towel close but letting him see the edges of a smile.

‘How are you doing?’

‘I’m all right. You?’

‘Good.’ He’s trying very hard to meet her gaze, but his eyes flick down to her shoulders and would continue down her chest if she didn’t grab a handful of his shirt and pull him to her.

There are different ways you can kiss a person, Jyn is discovers. There’s the way she always did before, deliberately careless so as not to give the illusion of being invested. There’s the way she kissed him yesterday, when she had him back and needed a way to tell him how she felt. And there’s this way, which makes her breath disappear and causes her body to twitch forward to be pressed against him. The contact only intensifies the need, she needs to be closer, needs to –

Cassian breaks the kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her up. She holds on, but he’s got her, she’s not going to fall, and then they’re on the bed and her towel is gone and she is very fine with that.

‘I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,’ Cassian says, as she sits up to take his shirt off.

‘Since when?’

‘Since you put a blaster in my face and asked if I could fly a shuttle.’

‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘You’re right. I thought you were going to shoot me.’

She laughs, and kisses him again. He’s hers to kiss. The thought makes her giddy.

‘I saw you,’ she remembers. ‘Before we broke out, when I had that fight with my cellmate.’

‘You were standing outside,’ he nods. ‘I was wondering why somebody that dangerous hadn’t been executed.’

His shirt gone, he moves to kiss her again, half pinning her beneath him. She arches up against his weight and has to take a deep breath in as he kisses harder, pressing back, and everything in her life is good because it’s brought her here.

 

‘There they are,’ Baze says, when they turn up at the end of breakfast. ‘Wondered if we’d be seeing you at all today.’

‘Good morning, Baze,’ Cassian says, he and Jyn taking their usual seats. They left hers at the table while she was away, even though technically there isn’t enough room. It was nice of them.

‘Morning Chirrut, Bodhi, K2,’ she nods at each of them. K2’s the only one not to return the greeting, she can’t tell if he’s still annoyed with her of he’s just being his grumpy self.

‘You all right?’ Bodhi asks. ‘You could always go back to the medbay if you’re not sure. Sometimes internal injuries aren’t obvious at first – ’

‘I’m fine,’ Jyn says, firmly. She’s spent enough time in the medbay in the last twenty-four hours. Unless somebody else shoots her, or she collapses, she has no desire to go back.

‘You have a strange definition of _fine_ ,’ K2 says, unexpectedly. ‘You have sustained two blaster wounds and appear to have been interrogated by an IT-O unit. It seems you use _fine_ in the same way Cassian does: to mean the exact opposite.’

There was a gesture in there somewhere. ‘Thanks, K2.’

‘An IT-O?’ Bodhi looks horrified and impressed. ‘I’ve heard about those. Is it true they – ’

‘Exploit your weaknesses,’ Chirrut answers, and for once Jyn doesn’t mind someone talking over her. ‘They are among the harsher tactics used by the Empire.’

She doesn’t ask how he knows that.

‘Mon Mothma will probably be looking for you,’ Bodhi adds. ‘She won’t be annoyed, Luke got his sister to verify the rescue mission, but she’ll want to know what happened. And, uh, she still thinks you’re Lianna Andor.’

‘I thought everyone would have known by now. The Alliance is worse at gossip than I thought.’

‘We don’t get much,’ Cassian says, semi-apologetically. ‘You could say we’re out of practice.’

‘Luke might know,’ Bodhi admits. ‘But he promised he wouldn’t tell anyone.’

‘Until the Princess figures out there’s something worth knowing,’ Baze points out. ‘I wouldn’t want to be the one keeping things from her.’

‘But I get to tell her,’ she says. ‘Great.’

‘That will be fun,’ Chirrut predicts, cheerful and unhelpful.

That’s one way of thinking of it. She looks from him to Bodhi, and then at the whole table. There is so much left to do. Explaining and organising and when that’s over just fighting the damn war. But they can start that in five minutes. She’s got Chirrut and Baze, she’s got Bodhi, and she’s got Cassian. Who may not be her husband, but could be someday, and that’s the biggest miracle she’s ever heard of.

‘Yeah,’ Jyn says. ‘It’ll be fun.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. So. That's a thing that's done. It's nearly 2am here so I don't think it's really sunk in yet, but I'm sure it will at some point.
> 
> Huge thank you to everyone who's read, left kudos, bookmarked or commented on this fic! You guys are the absolute best, especially those of you who have been following since the beginning. Thank you also to [runakvaed](http://www.runakvaed.tumblr.com) on Tumblr, for making a [lovely aesthetic edit](http://runakvaed.tumblr.com/post/157097542683/the-words-would-only-rhyme) for this fic! And lastly, thank you Carol, for everything.
> 
> I say this a lot, so I don't know how seriously you should take it, but I'm planning to take a break from fic now that this is finished. I might do a couple of oneshots here and there, but I've got other projects that need my energy, such as the play I'm co-writing and will be directing at my university next autumn. 
> 
> (I just realised that I finished this on May the 4th. Fitting, huh.)
> 
> If you've enjoyed this fic, please do let me know in a comment or [on Tumblr](http://www.betweentheheavesofstorm.tumblr.com)


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